Life is but a stage,
And nature turns the next page
When it's time is ripe and due;
Simultaneously one fades,
Progressively another comes
To the tidings of beat anew.
It is my turn says she,
Yesterday is gone, tomorrow may be
But let today be my friend;
Then give a concordant beat to my dance
As all men behold this trance,
They will in this tune, their waists bend.
Arrange these beautiful lines
Like the celestial fiddle verses
Then I will chant the melodious song
And turn every merry note
Into the sweet bird's throat
Where the bleeding pens throng.
This giant ink making impact
Will on this stage never depart,
As long as our pens do bleed
And no one is speared from its fury,
So shall we in trouble never weary
But these pens will solve the need.
In honour of the 'Bleeding Pen giant ink making impact'.
Dec.11 2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
now it's your turn hum a few lines