Life's born as piece of work in progress,
Pen upon a paper as started,
A book of epic scale in process,
More is made, more remains to be made.
Still, it scarce can take self for granted,
Back and forth and still in forward state,
As life that stagnates would vegetate,
Needed most still, pray who comes to aid?
Me Death, scarce can life when move ahead,
One-wing bird, no more, life seems at birth,
With my help it carries forth on earth,
So aided does life move, by me led.
So, at birth life walks in along me,
On death too, if only ye can see.
A twain life and death be walking prone,
Breath inhaled exhaled gets as in time,
One without its twain never is known,
Together do we play a long chime,
But for us millions may age, not grow,
Stagnant sea waters as salty go.
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This sonnet (in anapaest metre)has one extra sestet. Death starts of with ‘it's me that…', but realises midway that it's only part of the twain.
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Sonnets | 01.12.16 |
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem