Jonathan ROBIN Poems

Each season shows love's reason in our life,
from birth to berth, from cradle to the grave,
we spring from travail to this vale of strife,
will forms, braves storms, till lost beneath time's wave.
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From sad lamenting tune, night never-ending
to dawn of gladness far from cobweb mist,
life springs, renewing seasons, sunlight sending
as summer's promise shines, once sorely missed.
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Dust replicates infinite forms which
show all equal, contribute to stitch
together those sharing common goal,
offers explanations how each soul
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Simple language seems to be
best when describing you or me,
learning daily how to live,
what refuse and what forgive.
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If known, unknown, enjoy a perfect fusion
illusion in itself may contribute
to overwrite illusions of confusion
between ideas that sundry sects confute.
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Il dépend de celui qui passe
que je sois tombe ou trésor,
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The fading pall is lifting in the East, -
black bird of night’s departing epiderm, -
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