A Last Summer Will It Be? Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
A Last Summer Will It Be?
A last summer will it be?
and then
I must cross the bridge to it.
There be an awkward joy in thinking this.
Days will of iron be; not sweet
But then to live in rule of iron oft so better wreaks!
Last, last, last shall be of All in All, the All
And then transformation bulldozes on
It has no pity, nor wit
But shrieking iron of the last to next.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 8:06:52 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
