Ageing
Poet-Seer
For
Whom
Age
Will
Not
Be
The
Axe;
Or
Guillotine:
The
Poet-Seer
Too
Strong
Stands
For
That.
Of the night's wonders sung
The ageing Poet-Seer
Albeit erect;
Tears were in his eyes and
Yet he sang.
The nightingale pitied him
And
Yet felt veneration for
His age and courage:
It stopped singing for her
Part
So that the Poet-Seer would sing
As her instead
The angst runs as the snake
Here and there amidst the thongs
In to beauty's varied realm:
The wonders transform them
To mists.
Dawn was now coming and
Yet
The ageing Poet-Seer still
Sung erect
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem