Thou knowest ashes!
Surely beaming and human beauty Crashes,
When none shall commend it virtue,
It gain dark spots and diminished value,
Thou spreadest ashes in its place,
In the final hole of solace.
For thou knowest the beginning of all ashes,
That the ending thereof perishes,
Timely like the dew, when before the sun it vanishes,
Like thee has thou given it form,
But ashes doth deformed,
When ashes goes down to hell,
When ashes renounce its shell.
It days becomes few,
And is lost like a dew,
In it way is found below the moon,
Finds its struggle beneath the sun,
That judgest how ashes may run,
Till ashes may finally burn.
For no ashes flies away like a bird,
They descend in downward third,
By this form is ashes known,
And no other way shall they be clone,
Till the moment to return to their home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem