There are no exceptions with you, are there?
You care less for yonder plans of men,
Nor for who, to whom they communed the hour before.
Against you, gallantry stands no chance, and
Wit bows to memory.
Horrendous, plain painful tiding you bring;
Awakening numb souls and numbing loving hearts.
Yet, no cheers to life if for you no yarks made.
For to void are the yonder plans of men, if same
Are not apportioned with thoughts of you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem