The Actress
By
Ross Dix-Peek
She stares forlorn
At her face worn,
The countenance of youth gone,
Like the rays of a setting sun
Her aching heart so longs for yesterdays,
When she was but the sum of her vanities,
She remembers the fevered embrace
Of an enraptured crowd, a vast adoring face
For that is sadly all she is,
For without them is gone life’s kiss,
She was but an unreal creation,
Of man and the wiles feminine
To them but an object of desire,
A mere “thing” to admire,
But now mother-time her beauty has undone,
And now her “flock” her does shun
To the lonely floor she falls,
Tears awash in great waterfalls,
Each long furrow upon her face,
Her beauty now does deface
For vile vanity was but her stage,
Her great and gilded cage,
But now all she has is regret,
As mother-time and all, her does forget!
(Pulchritude is but fleeting!)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wowwwwwwwww i like the smooth flow in the poem 'her falls on the floor those waterfalls of tears her fevered embrace and finally how her flock her does shun very lucidly brought out the falling beauty excellent work a tenner from me anjali