Every step on this dreary platform
Burns fire in the ground,
Sparks threaten to engulf me,
Phoenix flames promenade my heart.
My heart is stone, or supposedly so,
But my tears are Phoenix tears.
My hand is a branch, a wing ready to escalate,
Dynamic and firm.
But with every step on this dreary platform,
The platform takes a not-so-dreary twist.
Snaking through gimmicks..schemes...machinations!
Sliding into the unknown.
And my heart is a crag, indecisively precipitous,
The darkness is darker than before.
Oh, why can stone not soften,
If iron can?
Beyond this purple moor,
Is a vale of unknown dreams,
Therein lie mine also,
Though I know not what they are.
Current dreams hide on this platform.
A platform not half-as-dreary now.
And I seek them with fear.
Softened stone easily dents.
My tears are still Phoenix tears,
But weaker.
The platform has reached impasse.
And I too reach a grinding halt.
What had been a function, had become a daily ramble,
And starry, intimate eyes, that had softened me,
Have collapsed.
Those beautiful eyes, pervasive in jejunity!
Alas! Phoenix tears could not save!
The platform turns again,
Ad I do, with hardened heart,
Much softer than before.
And I stand on this dreary platform,
With ardent desire, phoenix-true desire,
Of facing out into the unknown.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good narrative piece with enough help of poets notes as it's easy to contextualize now! ! !