Lit bright by fire both wanting & searching,
I'm proud of you and that old, Newy crowd;
A lone portrait from a youth of yearning.
Infinite sands of summer all burning
Our fly-like joys caught in a cobweb shroud,
Lit bright by fire both wanting & searching.
Jobs all taken at their parents' urging,
Many throwing down their unworn towels,
A lone portrait from a youth of yearning.
Those chilled, narrow-minded wakes all churning
Over dreams savaged by a half-sunk prow,
Lit bright by fire both wanting & searching.
Bill & mortgage-bound, their lowpaid earning
Spent on bare survival just for the now,
A lone portrait for a youth of yearning.
Creative urge now subtle and spurning
An old man's eyes, wondering why and how,
Lit bright by fire both wanting & searching,
A lone portrait for a youth of yearning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem