with hope the spring anticipates
the world was a road to everywhere
I basked in the glow of a sunny day
composing songs to change the world
I stayed until the darkness fell
the western sky in streaks of gray
the muted shadows lost their hue
and melody became a dirge
and still the road leads on to roads
as seasons pass like setting suns
and poets pen their winsome lines
within the rhythms of their breath
Thanks Paul but I think despair or sadness more than ennui. Getting old and illness can really do a job on hope.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Awesome write. With the passing years, hope loses its color. Youthful energy is replaced by inertia of body n soul. A huge 10.
That's it but poets are lucky as we still have our poetry even as we grow old. Thanks.