We want all goodly creatures to reproduce themselves
So that the beauty’s flower will not die out
But as an old man dies in time
He leaves a young heir to carry on his memory, to spread it out
But you, concerned with only your nice-looking eyes
Do feed the bright light of the life with self-regarding fuel
Making the beauty shallow by your preoccupation with your looks
In this you are your own enemy, being cruel to yourself and acting as a fool
You who are the world’s most beautiful ornament and the messenger of spring
Are burying your great gifts within yourself
And, dear selfish one, because you do decline to reproduce
You actually are wasting beauty and putting all your gifts right to the farthest shelf
Take pity on the world or else be glutton who devours
With grave, what to the world belongs
WS1
© Copyright: Вениамин Понкратов, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124091305476
Свидетельство о публикации №124091305476
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