Is it true what they say?
Contemptuously turning away;
That there be
No rest for the wicked?
For if what they say
Be as true as night and day
Then I too shall be declared:
Wicked! !
For if I were a saint,
My soul content would remain
But my restless soul condemns me
Wicked! !
For I would as soon be dead
As caught mulling upon an idle ledge
How then do I defy
Wicked!
tainted are us all, reference point shifts a lot and relationships as tentative as cohabiting kites on a 'ledge' still virtuous eh? ? ?
But the poem is not wicked! its eloquent......thought provoking....fine! ....10+
WOW... WARDHA... POWERFUL THINKING... WE CAN NEVER BE SAINTS...A LIL WICKEDNESS IS A PART OF THE FALLIBLE HUMAN NATURE...
It’s nice when a poet finds an interesting uncommon thought before they start to write. Clearly this has been done here.
Feels strange to live through a see through box- never mind. I tried to explain it as closely and as clearly as possible. I'd be uploading that instantaneous response on this poem; duly citing the basis of inspiration. thnx-warda P.S: Poems are our children never think they can be modest
Since you don't allow sending messages, I'll have to use this space to give an insight on my comment. I see poem as a living organism which breathes of the intensity of emotions that had brought it into existence. A person who is on relatively comparable latitude either very empathically inhales and breathes in tandem with the poet; while for others it acts as a Sirocco and blows them off to some new geography. While I fully imbibed the intrinsic allusion to liberation of soul from the onerous magma of body; that enmeshes it in the labyrinth of desires and dejections, however to me it was that hot oppressive wind which unmoored some deeply anchored acerbity
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A real saint's soul will not condemn its soul as wicked! ! !