Explore Poems GO!

The Azure

The serene irony of the eternal Sky
Depresses, with the indolence of flowers,
The impotent poet cursing poetry
Across a sterile waste of leaden Hours.

Fleeing, with eyes shut fast, I feel it blight
With all the intensity of crushing remorse
My empty soul. Where can I fly? What haggard night
Can stifle this scornful torment at its source?

Roll in, you fogs, and pour out ashen haze
Read More

READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS OF THE POEM