A monarch was I with infinite might
And with boundless veneration
soaring alone beyond every height
In immese inner incredible tranquility
And fully devoid of every passion
Alas! I was turned into a thing of pity
They who in wonder clapped for whom
Jibe today and suggest the ways to boom
I too with a smiling face watch their tacts
While with a withered soul I do introspect
O Passion! It's thy destructive hands
How secretly they murdered an emperor!
From the sea of bliss by throwing on sand
And resurrected as but a miserable beggar
Topic(s) of this poem: passion
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.