The Verse Was Silent In Its Aching Throes Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
The Verse Was Silent In Its Aching Throes
The Verse was wounded, therefore it was silent
And dim its ancient night lamps waned
And Twilight into Night transformed
And Night the dark in deeper black grew
Mourning and funereal robes
Austere and speechless in the numbing Time.
Thus my life that months ago
Was still in early Twilight wrapped
Now, in pitch dark of night chokes
And yearns for a Dawn all in vain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/29/2026 7:52:38 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
