Absurd of us, we realise
As closely the matter who
Look in on, to believe;
Process of self-delusion!
Their sacrifice, heart-spilt love's
Woman's, merit. Nor grieve!
But as one who's not questioned
Ever, dream-woke, Fate's weaving,
As much for spells over
With the divine will aligns
Before my low self esteem
I'll try not to cower!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem