Ears may look pretty real, but can't hear,
Rare if words whispered be so silent,
From world of feelings he steers quite clear,
Impostor he is and arrogant.
Perhaps man glad be finding him there,
In doldrums be when life who shows dream,
A way-lost would like his wayward theme—
He's a hound in hot chase of life's hare.
Rare be men that the yours truly meet,
A witness that stays close and around,
In touch, but hastily to retreat,
Perchance such a one's not his pet ground.
Man much rather mired be in mirage
O than face verity's awkward rage!
_____________________________________________
Sonnets 06.10.16 |
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem