Many in a sigh I thought on a tired day
The day, like breakable tides, broke on my fate
I, little thinking about, my fate did play
In foreseeing future; I was vain and late-
For people, all in hate or dislike, could hardly
Travel my done tasks; but their eyes
Blazing like the sun did my flame tally-
Notwithstanding I could not but be vices.
If I had become the fauna of the sea,
Tears could have been hardly my trace;
I was faint, so my tears more might be
Or, 'twas not needed for me- - shadowy grace.
Again, although I'm uplifted from ashes
Or designed newly in a manly face, but
I'm yet too liable to be prey of the lashes;
So, in belief or pretence the God I pray must
Yet to be a man, whose hands shine to bless.
A human soul always, as I know, is craving
For name or fame, but how much or less?
Take me thus- a man, livelong, how was being!
Lo! Lilly perhaps has out-done her beauty now,
May be she is forlorn, or out-did soon
The Lethe, -but ever did she oblivion allow?
Her life by down-trodden ways is divine sheen.
11-21-2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem