The glory of the wreath
Around the Poet's head
The crown
Of years of toil
Of Inner Soul suffering!
No, no, not that
That breathes life
To my verses
But the heart
That throbbing beats
Of life
Just life and all
That meets
In Evolution's ever-increase!
On the Aegean shores
Long, long, ancient
Ago
A Poet lonely strung
His lyre and
His heart was sad
He saw the future
Clear
Though
In his eyes rose tears
And
His Inner Soul was one
With mine centuries between!
That be
The wealth of verse
Of Civilization wealth
Power and glory:
Permanent, long term and
Great
The Inner Soul, the glory!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem