Sonnet On Solitary Nights

Someone from the farthest island
Plays the flute with a flawless note:
When I dwell in my desolate land,
The lingering mus(e)ic roes me on a boat:

Into the unending blue with solitary pathos;
The tune seems to be disturbingly soulful,
It keeps striking endlessly my ethos...
The falsettos lull my soul to be peaceful!

Neither growing nor waning of the moon
Stops the mourning of the flute;
The someone tirelessly plays without a swoon.
I listen in deep silence, but my eyes are not mute!

Jealous of the flute that cries with so many eyes,
As my stream of sorrow is compressed just to two eyes!