I guess my friend, you as well as I must die, dumped under a stone in dust
And all our deeds and beauty stand for in vain over our eternal beds
This flawless, vital hand, this perfect young constantly thinking heads
This body of yours and mine; of flame and steel, before the gust
Of Death to devour to come upon us like autumnal first frost
We shall be as like any leaf of the field; be no less dead
Than the first leaf that fell in the forest gloom, this wonder of our life fled
Altered, estranged, disintegrated, forgotten, evaporated and lost.
Nor shall my love avail you in your final hour.
In spite of all my love, you will fall to dust or to the sky arise
It mattering not how beautiful we were how many things we strived and achieved
The curtains dropped on all else that dies
Copy Rights 2010
All rights reserved
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'In spite of all my love, you will fall to dust or to the sky arise'! Beautiful explanation of the way life turns to death without our welcome or invitation, leaving us to fend for ourselves in the end. Wonderfully beautiful poem, Nero! Thank you for sharing. RoseAnn