Stars are softly smirking tonight
Within the black apex of humanities limits.
They whisper “past” as all shout “right”! ,
They draw our wills in winter white,
As we carry their pain in shallow buckets,
And attempt to cast them into the sea-
Most prove too crude a carry.
So leave them where you once had stood
And claim a will of gold and good-
Yet remember that, in troubled times-
We are just what we've left behind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem