As dusk to dawn succeeds, so death to birth,
Swift arcs the arrow, with the ark of man,
Lost on Time’s sea, while his allotted span
Is soon forgotten, dry-docked, - narrow berth.
For dust to dust returns, earth turns to earth;
Each sickled moon a sickly herald, wan,
Is witness to impermanence. The plan
Spins to Fate’s farce fast ending. Light and mirth
Must fade or jade before they prove their worth.
In earnest, blazing brightly, nothing can
Remain eternal, beacon Hope can’t scan,
And flame as ‘fixèd mark’ – and so its dearth,
Ghost mirage, mocks love’s life and locks life’s love -
End is in sight, flight spent, expressed above.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem