In the bedlam of words
with letters waltzing about
baffled the bard stands
enduring a depressive bout
for order in this chaos
he pants, he yearns
disarray at every stride
but still somehow, he learns
seductive the words art
alluring is the hymn
but decadent is the poet
so the ink and sheet with him
bewildered by the realm
for sanity he pants
for last stroke of brush
in his wondrous partial painting
thither he dwells, he stands
and then t'was left broken
with insistent tears in eyes
the poem and words within
and the poet melancholic
at peace with all the lies
and the worldly sin
why cease the beaut lay, he says
let it be partial evermore
for then it will be eternal bliss
for then the bard wont be sore
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
seductive the words art alluring is the hymn but decadent is the poet so the ink and sheet with him bewildered by the realm for sanity he pants - Beautiful... absolutely amazing...