I deem me something of a higher race,
A lonesome lord of dignified estate
I think me origin of time and space
A god whose word is might, whose will is fate.
I reckon me to be the all-in-all
I dream of none, save me an ichored bard
I nurture but the fancies of my soul
Regarding nothing but my self-regard.
I think of truth, I am the verity
Of Beauty, but Apollo ain’t the one
Of strength, and I outpow’r all entity
Of stature, and I stand above the sun.
Of love, and I adore all that I see
And all is nothing but my effigy!
Zgharta
March 23rd 1989
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem