Why do waves keep on rushing to the shore?
What wisdom could be gleaned from thought like this?
What did they say, those great wise men of yore,
That recent hoary wits would all but miss?
Fools often love, as fervent as the waves,
In passion so intense, whilst waters roll,
When come the doldrums that would stop their raves,
Their hearts to stranger gardens then would stroll;
But love that stretches too far out to reach
Is madness prone to rot and atrophies,
If it be sea, it ends on yonder beach,
And moon, would strip it there of memories;
.....Waves mimic life, the rise and fall of things,
.....Of fools and lovers, or of slaves and kings.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem