Nightingale

Thou hath brought thy preceding light
Upon my dark heart that see'st not
Thy rage that blindeth  me to a pen
From this beauty doth sang a nightingale
So brilliant with thy vivid colors
Such as this nightingale, which hath not a song
Thy splendor, thy exquisiteness
Thy light bearing soul
So virgin o' so virgin in thy vain affectionate attempts at love doth conjure a silent recollection
Locked away, thou cannot singeth to this nightingale
Do lock away
Love forever in a tortured land
With a draining scream, raining dreams
Thou hath brought thy preceding light
Upon my dark heart that see'st not
Chaste in thy dull attempts to wrangle thee
Forever releasing what was bound
Not a love, not a cry
But a sheer muffled echo of what could
Doth the nightingale cry when at rage
O' sweet nightingale tell me now
Thou hath lost thee in a faithful abyss
A hollow tomb
Rise from what was risen
Sing to what hath gone
Nightingale o' sweet merciful nightingale why do I love thee?
Resembling this rage burning desire of what I seem to have lost
Thou hath brought preceding light
Upon my dark heart the see'st not
Nay love, nay song, nay the ability to love the same
Upon thy darkened heart that has neglected such delicate radiance
Love without a song, nightingale   
Love without you my sweet nightingale