A Mini Poetry Blog
How the time of youth is to be spent? One day in despair and another in dreaming, One step to heaven and another to the cliff. Yet no spring beauty nor summer passion has such grace in the harsh face of your pestilence, for these wrinkles tell a story of fever wishes, and our righteousness…
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Between wheat-field and corn, Between hedgerow and thorn, Between tundra and savannah, Where’s my lost youth? Tell it me, Good Madams! And now within itself the truth’s imprisoned As if it had never opened out: unknown Those blessed moments, when it shone As bright as the angelic galaxy lovingly shown And remorse, reproach, and irritation, frown…
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The Modern Etiquette 