There is no faith in what is plain to see,
always doubting, meekly toiling,
those truthful eyes awoke my sinking soul,
a believer in the sullied snow knelt aghast.
A little glimpse of what the saints can see,
changed the route of all there is to bequeath,
My unholy heart is mesmerised by the peace,
that her aura of perfection showered upon me.
A striking poem with an inner strength. I like the metaphor of the snow.10.
'A little glimpse of what the saints can see, / changed the route of all there is to bequeath, / My unholy heart is mesmerised by the peace, / that her aura of perfection showered upon me.' Beauty is actually found, when he discovers it in one virtuous and was touched. Adorable.
Those truthful eyes awoke my sinking soul, Rachel Ann Butler
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi Ciarán, I like your way in telling about the untold beauty, especially each first line of each paragraphs, they're simple, but also deep and complicated, I like 'There is no faith in what is plain to see' and 'A little glimpse of what the saints can see'. They both are the greatest part of this poem.