Melancholia Poem by Robert Seymour Bridges
Melancholia
The sickness of desire, that in dark days
Looks on the imagination of despair,
Forgetteth man, and stinteth God his praise;
Nor but in sleep findeth a cure for care.
Incertainty that once gave scope to dream
Of laughing enterprise and glory untold,
Is now a blackness that no stars redeem,
A wall of terror in a night of cold.
Fool! thou that hast impossibly desired
And now impatiently despairest, see
How nought is changed: Joy's wisdom is attired
Splendid for others' eyes if not for thee:
Not love or beauty or youth from earth is fled:
If they delite thee not, 'tis thou art dead.
Don't allow your imagination to overreach your limits and never lose the perspective behind your purpose because excess always creates imbalance, even when it aims toward positive. Point your eyes toward the horizon but focus on what's around you. And know that you can't grow old if you never look down at your watch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 8:36:41 AM # 1.0.0.1119
State of melancholia wonderfully defined along with it's symptoms, the causes behind it's origin and it's devastating impact on human life. Thanks for sharing.