In the midst of my table,
Lied a cordate book,
Bound by the thickest cord.
In it was kept my heart’s desire,
Enclosed with capabilities,
And with passions of fire.
I drew out my sword,
The Word of God,
And broke the bonds apart.
To read all of the intentions,
Written in my heart.
Oh the evil!
Of that which was written,
Left me greatly smitten!
Copyright © Christian Ratnam 2007
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Of course, this is not a traditional sonnet, which is most commonly written in iambic pentameter with various end-word rhyme schemes. It is, however, a very fine poem.