In his short space less life
Discordant happiness plays foul,
A missed chance heavy price demands.
He sought another that never was for him
As he feared his utter laziness
And never spelt her adored name
Before eastern Sun broke forth.....
Therefore never bore the prized company to home.
Now he is of none,
Life stores nothing save imaginations fatigued
Like some useless rubbles that blunt his radar
Which never begot aim for a tumbling ship,
Where news less captain over looking
Oceanic despairs; he knows that it is
No return for him; glimpsing thorn cares
With nervous look that sits next to him.
Future like dimming stars on clouds light trespass
Heavy his burdened dreams.
No lap of meditating love, selfless,
Visible or waiting in wings.
No nymph of beauty boundless sits on drying branches
Of lifeless trees, planted by him.
A pure sphinx now he, homeless, tasteless,
Statue of abandoned passion, sprouted elsewhere.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem