A Ride With Death Poem by Ailbhe Eighteen
A Ride With Death
One may speculate,
Why won't I lament;
Thy coldness, thy strife, thy name,
But why, should I be?
I don't resent this man in high carriage,
Mighty but sad but gentle but brute;
As twilight dims sinisterly,
Here and then, take me.
I let it be, l won't fight,
I don't scorn, it would be glee;
For at twelve o'clock, midnight or morn,
I should rise again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/29/2024 3:17:23 AM # 1.0.0.1119
' Midnight or morn It will come to life to seize the moon' Nice lines.
Thank you so much Uche Nwanze :)