With none to share
In glory of heart's desire;
Beckoning some timid response
But none forthcoming..........
So alone he sat in rapt solemnity
His immobile frame tense
With regret of bygone years;
For when in prime, he wasted
Life's treasures on wanton lust;
The marrow of his bones sucked
By the idleness of youth
And his scant regard for others.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem