Your ageing now must take it's best,
True little hymns chanting you think,
And dreaming to that divine link
For the work you had done to rest.
How in the face that leaving a memory
Where beauty surely must sleep one day
But, where those only ethereal mates can say
Your pathos caressing to nurse you see.
Tonight under the bemusing glare
So sad and deep undertone it raise
And moments of sorrows to chase,
Giving to his hidden: invisible stare.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem