What does it mean
to cry there is no more.
Has every dream died
within the breast;
can it be true at last,
aspiration has gone to rest?
To accept the insufficient,
is a canvas never signed,
A crescendo interrupted,
a wild thing confined.
And what if in life
fruition fails to teem
Will it from the grave
still be heard to keen
its discontent?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem