After Many a Springtide Dies the Swan
Once was so glorious in his beauty,
Breathtakingly handsome and full of seduction,
Like a divine tree of a charm in a gleaming appearance,
Fancied many a magnificent birds;
Oh silly splendid birds! You are the travellers of the globe,
Be not fascinated with his calm temptation-
It will decay and fall apart.
Alas! For his gentle shadow, you’re maddest unto the confines.
Give the immortality and never dying beauty,
He prayed for immortal youth and immortal age.
Only if, god would recall his gift,
Only if one could challenge the nature,
Preserve me in the portrait, where I will remain richly fresh,
He exclaimed wretchedly, perhaps one would live forever!
Real was the joy in living young, perhaps, the ultimate joy left?
Shining feathers are greyed with a gloom, and
Luminous vision is fading away.
Eye-catching walks of youth are unsteady now,
The envious stream couldn’t imitate the image of glowing and beautiful,
In his sleepy eyes once more dream of youth twinkles.
Departs the last drop of a tear in silence,
And, after many a springtide dies the swan.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 2:10 AM UTC
After Many a Springtide Dies the Swan
Once was so glorious in his beauty,
Breathtakingly handsome and full of seduction,
Like a divine tree of a charm in a gleaming appearance,
Fancied many a magnificent birds;
Oh silly splendid birds! You are the travellers of the globe,
Be not fascinated with his calm temptation-
It will decay and fall apart.
Alas! For his gentle shadow, you’re maddest unto the confines.
Give the immortality and never dying beauty,
He prayed for immortal youth and immortal age.
Only if, god would recall his gift,
Only if one could challenge the nature,
Preserve me in the portrait, where I will remain richly fresh,
He exclaimed wretchedly, perhaps one would live forever!
Real was the joy in living young, perhaps, the ultimate joy left?
Shining feathers are greyed with a gloom, and
Luminous vision is fading away.
Eye-catching walks of youth are unsteady now,
The envious stream couldn’t imitate the image of glowing and beautiful,
In his sleepy eyes once more dream of youth twinkles.
Departs the last drop of a tear in silence,
And, after many a springtide dies the swan.
