Wanton sirens and Don Juans
Gad around for new heavens
Lures, sneers true contententment
Like a laughing mirage distant
...
Holy names he did never chant
Sinning all the time he spent
Now repents of bygone years
Those he can never reverse
...
Where is Sun? Where is Lotus?
At His advent; she shyly blossoms
When He left; she shrinks in gloom
So weird are the ways of Platonists
...
Vented Pots
Wanton sirens and Don Juans
Gad around for new heavens
Lures, sneers true contententment
Like a laughing mirage distant
Yearnings end as yearnings
Loading them in chagrin and pain
In spite of glutting their wants
Linger they like vented pots
Unto death with eternal thirst