Tyranny ignites a wicked in earthly modicum
And tyranny, in a wicked's life grows his plume
And he builds his home in duplicity,
When all the world he deprives by engraved beauty.
All, in circle, return common
In growing gloom of warmth noon
To unwrinkle their brows, or easy,
Palpably, to defeat mystery of the saucy;
As a wicked's life-stream flows
In quite allurement, so every ripple little allows
Him- - to find himself in estimation,
So he prefers other unown than own.
All, he does is his priority to destroy
All that he has earned with alloy.
03-01-2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem