All mortal creatures pass away
Like shadows of a winter's day;
Those ecstasies that we pursue
Which crimson youth once thought it knew,
Will never die, but gently fade
Along that universal stream,
Where stars appear, as they were made,
Reflected in a poet's dream.
reflected in poet's dream. good one. thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
another genius composition. i love poems that are short and profound. this is an accomplishment any poet can appreciate. bravo,10 out of 10.