Amidst storm flood and sun fire,
Alone among his own kind
Steeped in self-invented Hell,
And far from heaven,
Stands man.
The meek through grace survive tides,
That stain the sand by full moon,
Waves that drown out love's soft cry,
Of peace on earth for,
All men
Between life's crown and death's thorn,
Men bury freedom's talents,
Tearful I regard the day,
The sun must turn and
Face Earth!
i especially enjoy the first stanza. how early was this written? thanks for sharing. :) bri
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this passage very much: BETWEEN LIFE'S CROWN AND DEATH'S THORN, MAN BURIES FREEDOM'S HABITS. Although at my age now I would not want life and death to be such polar opposites, but that's what makes these early poems - when you're young you see things as spaciously placed over a vast field of endeavor. And there's nothing scary about the distances. I found an early poem, one of my few relics of the past, and the story of a vast journey taken by an Orpheus figure. I can't make sense of my ending,