The Last Casket Poem by James McLain
The Last Casket
It is decayed, for all to see behind murky lead glass.
The sun is old, the plant of youth has faded to grey.
Futures squandered, roads of gold, are left undead.
Gaunt, robust once is night now returned, in dusk.
Extenuation of extinction, again now assured, empty palm.
Treasures in treasure is treasured by whom is-left to be.
Last rocket bus, with children in trust, fall up to the sky, to cry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 2:40:24 AM # 1.0.0.1119
i like this no idea why but i do