- - My hope against life - -
Time with its bountiful look hadst come at the doorsil Of my room,
It waited for long to change the face of my
decrees,
The way it wished to change my fate wast unknown to me and I wast doomed.
Life's frameless freedom and it's fictional
Foam of beatitude put me outdoors off my room.
I wast a forlorn soul eaten within by my own folly and careless wast my wayfaring.
Upon awakening I find myself mocked
and sealed within the dark chamber of my mind.
A flame weak and thin refulgent amid the breast of eyeless prudence and hope outflows
As a rivulet finds its rest in the undulating ocean.
Thou art my hope, the last anchor and buttress
against life's sordid foray.
Thou art my hope, the last anchor and buttress against life's sordid foray
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderful poem! Brilliantly penned........................................................10