He seems to me a fool in full splendour;
You yearn for him,
and yet, he does not give you a second thought.
Surely he is blind,
for otherwise, he would be under fair Aphrodite's spell;
as you are for him, and I for you.
My Heart dances to Apollo's merry tune,
though i am far from merry.
My flesh burns, with all the rage of hell,
and I am silenced,
no words can I speak,
and so, as before,
you quietly pass me by...
Steve Armstrong
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-fool/
