Why, I, in this exquisite mixture
Of resolute loathing
And everyday fear,
Have no delight in conquer.
My share shall be the most
Primordial of them all.
I demand
That puny place
Next to the feet
Of the Unnamed Master.
There, I would beg
For redemption...
Rise, verity, up from my soul:
I would drive Him mad with my silence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I enjoyed every bit of this poem. Tank you for sharing.