In that end, there's a new beginning;
In that beginning, there's a new end,
Until castles of glass: shatter down,
Into a chaos, all sweetly blend.
Steep'd in blood those happy primes,
Retreat to a land where daffodils die,
To be or not to be remains unanswered,
The truth forsaken for a little lie.
Those lovely shapes: freshly decayed,
Belong to a land of ruinous spring
Rise like fear from a handful of dust,
Nothing remains behind, neither book, nor ring.
Only few thoughts transgress and trespass,
To witness the marriage of heaven and hell,
What they visualize is a visionless vision;
A smiling Geraldine and a sobbing Christabel.
Beastly beauty emerges from a fallen centre,
And takes hold of sceptre and crown,
To rule in a void of vacant lots
Scattered over an apocalyptic town.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem