Old memories brewed for long,
Leaven, tending to be sour;
Preserved, become acid strong,
And caustic under cover
Cosy thoughts in warm brood
Hatch into birds strange;
Cuckoos among the crows good
Causing havoc to the nest - range
Sly secrets buried deep
Send forth waves of tremor;
And without any warning beep,
Ooze out with the lava of horror
Vaulting ambition to cross
The margin of moulded merit
Can incite evil crimes gross,
Prompt and outwit the fit,
Things cherished as dear
With craze and fervour,
Might scorch and sear
All blooms in the bower
Greedy pelf, unshared morsel
And a tyrant's dismal power
Are lost tracelessly in the waste well
Futile at the needful hour
Vigour and braced brawn
Often letdown a win
While the subtle, fragility-drawn
Finds the Fortune wheel spin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Cuckoos among the crows good....wonderful expression!