Despair has built for me a wall,
foundations laid upon the past,
till block on block it was complete,
and high and strong and built to last.
It walls me in, it walls you out,
and yes, I know I built it so,
protection from a greedy world,
the avarice of every foe.
At times it's cold behind my wall,
and lonely as the sullen grave,
but life is no less cold than death,
for grieving souls we cannot save.
And some of us are made for walls,
the prisoners of a grim despair,
constructed from a lifetime's pain.
We keep our walls in good repair.
Apologizing is a big thing. Every one try to stick with there mistake and try to explain in better manner. finding our mistake and repair is best solution. we becoming hero and not losing any thing. make your life better all the best. congratulation barry middleton
Oh, dear Barry, ''your walls'' are fifferent wals, I had not imagined there are so many akind of walls! They seem beautiful to be though you are complaining for the opposite! Kudos
That is exactly what I liked in it.It's true that most of us build our own walls to live in.'''protection from a greedy world, the avarice of every foe''' You put it so right here, Barry.Kudos
Cavafy's walls were seemingly built by others though it is ambiguous as to who - they - are. Your poem, My Own Walls, and Cavafy's have one thing in common - regret that they are there. I'm a little different, I like my walls.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like these walls and I like my walls. It stops the wind from blowing the rubbish in.
Exactly. You completely get it Poppy.