The year gone holds out ah a mirror
That reflects well the human error.
But man gives him a dope—
Camouflaged as thin hope,
That in part softens up frost terror.
He waits much as change waits,
The New Year gives him dates,
And this goes on as if forever.
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As per Indic philosophy years are arbitrary.They have no special significance. One year has 365 days; from where to count is a matter of convenience. Man knows right from the bath mirror what errors, mistakes, and wrongs he has committed. He knows he needs to do something. But does he ever change? He only gives him a long rope, a new hope, and moves on. The cycle repeats. He keeps fooling himself. I wonder why resolutions to do something or to change should wait till the New Year.
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Reflections | 03.01.17 |
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
New year and terror but life is here for ever.
You are spot on Gajanan Mishra, truth is multidimensional as Janism's Anekanta theory believes. Thank you for your feedback.