Through the mist of the night, a candle glows
Dimly over the bookshelves in his den.
As the pile of papers on his desk grows,
He dips his pen into the ink again.
Although his mind slowly begins to strain,
His work is more rewarding than it seems.
As the scholar keeps exhausting his brain,
The longest hour drifts into the moonbeams.
While the frost on his windows gently gleams,
The candle on his desk is extinguished.
He hopes his work will make him distinguished,
As the pages keep swirling through his dreams.
Throughout the night, he rests from his reading,
And awakes with new hopes of succeeding.
© 2020
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Brilliant!