A kind of pain
That puts a maddening smile of satisfaction
On the face
Not lost in a dream
But searched in reality
I found.
A kind of tear
That flows sickenly free
And silently on
I've cherished many a day
No liquid nor trace of air
I've whipped.
A kind of pride
Yearned not for thyself but for thee
Surging in the wind
On the faces of the hour
And wilfully objected
I've seen.
A kind of smile
That's implausible to unveil
For with it
Through all
Is the hardest
Though not impossible
I've felt.
But in all
The transition lost and coming
The tears dilated and drowning
The hopes squashed and souring
I sought but one
A kind of loving
When the morning comes
That's distinctively unreal
And far fetchedly in tune
With the seconds of life
That places the mind at rest
For the heart never forgets
To uphold and replete
My vanities at large
To be kissed in the rain
By a rose on the wind
I seek.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem