From the stubborn hill
The azure liquids to horizon
The sight fades and dismay begins
Blind the eye proves
The ego within whines
The failure is real
Oh! what a tiny man is in Nature's scale!
The roaring waves cease to ear,
Either for distance or deafness,
And beauty may arrest,
But blunt may be the sense,
Logic of where and no where,
Denies Prometheus’ first fire,
Or flourishing a Sun within,
Or a lady’s love for her lover,
That remains ever unseen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem