I find no peace, and all my war is done.
I fear and hope. I burn and freeze like ice.
I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise;
And nought I have, and all the world I season.
That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison
And holdeth me not-yet can I scape no wise-
Nor letteth me live nor die at my device,
And yet of death it giveth me occasion.
Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain.
I desire to perish, and yet I ask health.
I love another, and thus I hate myself.
I feed me in sorrow and laugh in all my pain;
Likewise displeaseth me both life and death,
And my delight is causer of this strife.
This poem is by Sir Thomas Wyatt. The credits given are incorrect.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Due to war we are frightened and due to fear neither we get love nor do we feel peace. War gives us danger always. Flying above the wind you try to find peace but easily you do not get and this provokes thought. We too do not get peace in such condition. Sorrow and pain give us moment of crying. This poem is very brilliantly, emotionally and excellently penned...10