Princeton prince

                Who are you a prince and mime,
                are You  flying like birds?
                Or you test the edge of Time,
                as the kings of the accords,

                Or you are a buff of rhymes?
                You are sleeping, turned your neck,
                wild winds and wings of morning.
                I saw  Youth and  smile attacks

 
                As if neglecting mystic warning...
                He sleeps; his head is sweetly bent,
                but the matter of his heart
                has no angel’s restful trend.


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