Whereto do you speed,
You clouds, heavenly vessels;
Beyond that lofty mountain,
Into the distance you disappear;
Into a land beyond mine, where,
Absolved of sorrow, you cheerfully
Partake in Summer festivities.
But here, dear clouds, where I
Dwell with my earthly troubles,
Eternal winter makes its kingdom;
Winds are cold, speechless, dead,
And the sky is granite, void of life.
I would implore you to escort me
Yonder, to the land where Sun sets
Not; but oh, I know this - I am not
A cloud, and it is man's destiny to
Weep, and clouds' to pass him by,
Uninterested in his affairs, for they
Are Heaven-born angels, and man's
But a wide-eyed observer, a yearner.
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Author:
Joakim Bergen (
Offline) - Published: May 16th, 2023 07:52
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
- Users favorite of this poem: Soman Ragavan
Offline)
Comments2
This poem is extravagantly written. I felt everything: the sorrow, the ambition, the yearning. The cloud analogy ties it all up wonderfully.
What is man, that thou art mindful of him? Or the son of man, that thou visit him? For thou has made him a little lower than the angels. And has crowned him with glory and honour.
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