To bed we go
To sleep or no,
Perchance to dream
Or merely seem
And lie awake,
A dozing fake.
Another day
Has gone away,
Another spot
Of time forgot,
And there is found
A hollow sound.
And all are left
With nothing left
But missing sun
And little done.
And very little done.
And very little done.
There is a mysteriousness to this one, especially the two lines: And there is found / A hollow sound. Haunting. How many times one lies in the dark pondering the purpose. Wondering the reason. I truly like this poem R. G.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
And all are left With nothing left But missing sun And little done.. fine reflection and rendition on futility. thank u dear poet. tony