This mind, it does strain
For to contain
This rumour, far-blown
Of nothingness.
Dreary for dim lakes.
Drearier, fen, shakes
With horridness.
O'erwhelmed as shrouded
Of what's heard fled
With it, damns for self's
Rejection, numbs.
Til edging which hour
For despair, gives way.
A drop, none plumbs!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem