Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth, -
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
A sextet of one stanza. Poem rooted in good rhyme. Well done! Sylva.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So long ago I have forgotten