I come home no more to bore sore
Memories of years, months, weeks and days sunk
Into emptiness and sadness to score
Pain in the rain on a vain river bank.
I come home no more in Rome
Besieged by a liege
I count no more
Among fiends and friends who disobey a sage.
I come home no more to waste vests
Worn when torn horns mourn
Loss of time in a clime that tests quests
For patience, resilience and endurance emblazoned in seas of scorn.
I come no more; furor gored its languor
Overrunning boundaries and vagaries
Of vanity vampires that vanquished visages of error and terror whose dagger
In a frivolous mirror that savoured neither salaries nor diaries.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem