(A parody to Howard Moss’s Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?)
You can’t be compared to one of the festive days;
You seem dull, but are indeed not.
Those days don’t last long; just like May,
They leave quickly, though they come out hot.
Even the sun can’t be trusted –
Sometimes too dim; sometimes too bright for our eye.
People who seem strong, not rusted,
Can fall down flat and just die!
But you never will!
If there’s one last brain which appreciates poetry,
Which will read this poem and other works of art
After your death, as ghosts may be,
In these works you’ll never depart!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem