Waking Poem by Palladas
Waking
Waking we burst, at each return of morn,
From death's dull fetters and again are born.
No longer ours the moments that have passed;
To a new remnant of our lives we haste.
Call not the hours thine own, that made thee grey,
That left their wrinkles, and have fled away;
The past no more shall yield thee ill or good,
Gone to the silent times beyond the flood.
translated by Robert Bland
From the death's dull fetters and again are born-excellent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 11:54:02 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
It's about positive thinking, isn't it? No future without a past for a writer, otherwise from what he get inspired to write? Thank you for sharing this nice poem]