one may have to sometimes see his things fade
Some may weep on lost sings which couldn't be forebode
Everything that's won is lost
The things were too brief to last
As one sees before him things turning away
He says with a sigh 'some other day'
Talent is made to lament before the known few
Vibrant one is sent to shade, biased to undue
He sits in a corner and sings a sad song of let downs
His wits get diminished to sighs and bad long swoons
He feels put away and hard for attention pay
So begins to sway on some other day
Some other day he might find himself somewhere high
That day he'll sight the way to beseech the end of sighs
Some other day he'll undo the past prejudice
He is done with his vast pleasure in life
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem