The candlelight, as if a sweet smell it may be
Wafts from my bedroom with esoteric panache
Standing tall, facing the pangs of subtle vagaries
Which include, whispers, breaths and dreams
It glows sinisterly, spreading deprivation
Sucking my oxygen to elucidate its radiance
And as if it were a selfish beast, and as if
Its luminosity was borrowed… stolen from me
It burns, but burns without pain
Its body withers, but without pestilence
Its flame flickers, but without dimming
And its soot spreads, without polluting
It stands there, my stoical candlestick,
Watching its siblings sublime
Knowing that its turn will come soon
To be the waxy dust of the candelabrum
But before the morning and the fateful day
It must fill this night with boundless light
And before ebbing away like it never existed
It must blind me with its light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
your eloquence is much praiseworthy... .........It must blind me with its light.......when it concludes so it enlightens the readers mind................rgrds/salu