A star a minute may be born,
To me complete disdain,
The Heavens flash, the mountains roar,
the merest growing pains;
A pot of gold from legends old,
why bother me with that?
Of fabled swords and Princely Lords,
I’m left completely flat;
Of magic spells and wishing wells,
I spurn them one by one,
Of treasures rare and Kingdoms fair,
to me its all ho-hum;
The Royal things of Kings and Queens,
are splendor, pomp and fame,
Such pedigree is not for me,
but thank you just the same;
The sky at night has Northern Lights,
The sea has Neptune’s throne,
Yet how can these begin to please
a heart that stands alone?
The Milky Way, suffice to say,
while grand beyond compare,
Would but possess sheer emptiness,
My love,
If you,
Weren’t there.
RAM
A poem by Richard Alin Martin
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem with a beautiful flow to it.