For A Idle Mind Poem by john wake
For A Idle Mind
March, march souls till your sole
Is worn, and you weathered, out.
March for alive is having time,
And death is time up
In the darkest hour
Life tastes sour,
But march for days
That light by sunrays
For joys in you catalogue
Of days lived,
March for hopes housed
In your heads
Dreams, dreamt but yet to live
March, march take a stake.
Standing still only makes them fake.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 8:47:06 PM # 1.0.0.1119
