my world is not the same
my house destroyed by time
my body weak and tired
at least I have my rhyme
although I sense a breeze
my inspiration's verse
has shifted to the west
for better or for worse
the cold has settled in
no fire can warm my night
my vision too must fade
then I will lose the light
above the windy sea
a bird turns to the shore
I watch him while I can
till I can watch no more
I struggled with the storms
I paid a heavy cost
and I will struggle still
till finally all is lost
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The vanity stressed by the last two verses though functioning as a philosophical irony and making the whole piece a truthness sub specie eternitatis? ignore the most precious value of this life which is its joyrney we have to make as born in this world beings. And this journey is worth to be experienced, doesn't it?
Worth being experienced and worth fighting for. Which is often difficult.