I wear the fall of darkness now
It has a stealth, a stillness deep;
that rains on down, it seeds my brow-
with furtiveness it kneads my sleep.
It bleeds with error of my ways
and bathes the night in ‘consequence;
Thin shafts of light, all err displays
this man's far-flung indifference.
Though time and tide be at the door,
there is no stain for which I plead.
If there be wantonness galore-
I've set no stance by chance or creed.
With trusty sword slung at my side-
the thrust of trust in hell bent hand,
each trace of failure thrice denied
I am the pledge on which I stand.
Through ‘eye of needle' God's looks down
while stars on high sail o'er my hill
I'll not bewail my tinsel crown
my cup once sate I drank my fill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem