The Rondel Of The Dying Roses
It is the time when roses die,
They die in gardens, and in me –
They were so full of life and glee,
And now they droop with a faint sigh.
Through everything cold shivers fly.
Despondency’s in all we see.
It is the time when roses die –
They die in gardens, and in me.
Beneath the dismal twilight sky
There eddies many a faint sigh;
And towards the long night to be
They gently bend their heads so shy –
It is the time when roses die.
When I was hatred I was great,
While I, today, all things above,
Am great – great for I feel I’m love,
Great for with Lethe I share the fate.
Yes, mercilessness makes you great,
But high you fly, high like a dove
When nothing is your heart but love,
When mercy does your soul elate.
I know: all things bear sorrow’s weight,
Through life in ignorance we rove,
But every solace is in love,
And even if distress be great,
Elation is: forgive, forget.
On the sea of life I maybe let my mind to journey far
And I cheat myself with vain hopes, willingly, it's so bizarre,
I'm creating gold chimeras, lots of happenings arise,
And I watch them lost in rapture, for they all amaze my eyes.
Poetry! If I am walking or somewhere I'm standing still,
You bestow me with large blue wings, make me fly with so much skill;
There's no hindrance that can stop me, for I break it with my thought
And I'm waiting with excitement the events that life has brought!
On the road I see a treasure and it makes me feel content,
I get drunk of so much richness like a man that smells a scent.
I can see that everybody honors me and loves my stance,
Being charmed when I speak trifles, make a move or cast a glance.
Scores of ages still in future I believe will be inclined
To arrive with shining wonders to amaze and fill my mind.
Or in front of a brave army I can see myself sometimes,
Helmets spark, the drums start beating, in the distance a bell chimes...
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