Sorrow Of The Life Poem by Natasa To

Out of the night that brought me,
Blue as the sky from pole to pole,
I thank whatever Buddha may be
For my conquerable soul.

In the black clutch of circumstance
I have not laugh nor cried aloud.
Under the blue birds of chance
My head is wet, but worry.

Beyond this place of sorrow and tears
Looms but the Horror of the scare,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me afraid.

It matters not how strait the Pacific Ocean,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my sorrow:
I am the ordinary person of my soul.