Bliss is just a shadow only in this world,
Haunted by the freezing winter of grief.

Mind is a senile phenomenon,

Wandering everywhere seeking pleasure;

A will-o’-the-wispIn the hornet’s nest of grief,

My passions plunged its face 

And the dreams that overwhelmed

In my eyes blossomed as flowers of agony.

When truth seeks a sanctuary

To lie down on the slings and arrows

Of outrageous calumnies,

The humans only guffaws,

Masking the conscience

With sympathetic grins on their faces…










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