Alas, hardpressed the whirling orbs
And swift Titan hie fleeting hours,
And cleave delights with woe avid
Death might - fast on us, she strides!
Whilst I, onward, mark more the deep
Shadow of my wrongs that prey untold
On a heart cowed now by constant woe,
And with tears, my youthful faults I rue.
Power, delights, wealth, such ado,
Tho ne'er for naught, 'tis ill they work,
For our desire they turn astray
From its rightful bliss (God we name).
Brief gains! O blissful a hundredfold
Who knows quick these shadows' true shape!
Sonnet I
Mikolaj Sep Szarzynski
(1)
Poem topics: death, god, heart, power, work, desire, wealth, shadow, deep, fast, true, shape, swift, constant, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Sonnet I poem by Mikolaj Sep Szarzynski
Best Poems of Mikolaj Sep Szarzynski