[1]
It's fair dark without,
yet the light within illumines
length and breadth of this room,
where I stand against my darker shade.
Each new day
an old morality battle;
mine true barrier ever since
doctored my childhood dream overnight.
Time and again—
the perpetual hide and seek of Heavens
in two solid hands,
skirt round blank face of the universe.
I sighed!
And the surrounding silence condense
into dense cloud of smoke,
shroud the polestar of progress.
Save one golden sound of gong
resonate this idle house to life,
which seems else dead as snow.
[2]
But no sooner did I repeat
short-cut to the end,
than these weeds in my parterre
(I scarce watered or fed) ,
extend wide its monstrous arms
well beyond the Cartesian coordinate
of sound act or thought;
cuts short the one above.
I came too weak to revolt
More, the wheel cannot move.
I collect:
no far will I serve the Devil.
At my back, my blood press for a name
for the next-in-line but feeds on them.
Then how far can a pervert shun
the brows and faces of years to come?
I hear that gong resound thrice,
says, I shall fight my darker side
so far the candle last the storm.
(First composed: November,2015)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The second self. good and evil, past experience of the childhood and youth that remains in the brain and comes our as dreams, and compulsive thoughts which rule over us and our thought world. very well pictured in this poem. thank you very much. tony