Many seasons have gone by
Enveloped with lonely days
And time is running by and by
Yet i'm a king with no princess
I trek lonely to the path of my end
And the sun above my head is setting to leave
Then my bone set to bend
To death my age cleave
Now you're telling me not to wail
Alaba! your offsprings are like flies
Yet you console me not to wail
I've gone to the mercury and mars
But i found the ribs of mine in absent
I'm unfortunate to be a man
This luckiest fate!
If i'm a woman
Thousands of men will be in my race
Then i'll make my choice
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem, in a dark way.