Lowly
Clearing her throat
Then she asks
'O' my dear
Thanks
For all your kind
Words dear
But tell me
That far away glee
That feel you free
Spent on that spree
Most your life agree?
Thereby away from me
That rabbit you be
To race sky high
Dreaming to decree
You the winner great high
Never mind
Me be the tortoise
To race slow behind
Loose game of any choice
Keep watching the sky
Opining of me nigh
You'll find me floating
As abundant turtles alluring
In that ocean of sky
And morrow's change
Wind might change
Of its mighty rage
You blown to the high range
To catch me all outranged
sometimes strange'
And morrow's change
Wind might change
Of its mighty rage
Turtles might fall disarranged
You might pick them deranged
Sometimes strange
Goodbye dear'
Bidding bye
Off and away far
She's gone
Passion or dispassion
The poet
Turns turtle
End
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem