First Poem: Remorse


Say ye about me in words of thine,

Of things done by the hands of mine.

Force I will not, those words to be confined.

The false is to be abandoned not remember'd.


What calamity it is which I've committed!

This wrongfulness to which I've submitted.

True, the mind at times is a trickster indeed.

Playing with the soul by the hands deed.

Act as I wish according to sin.

In the ways of arrogance did I play.

Haughtiness did come to win,

Against my purity, to my dismay.

Woe to me , what shall become of me?

Full of arrogance, haughty as I can be!

False pride of my mind has deceived me!

To be exposed of the reality of my stupidity-

-to think so highly, haughtily of my own intellect.

When, in fact, it is merely mediocre, plain, or defect.

Because of it, I've put my self in a throne like that of a king.

Condescending to others as if they are subjects, mere weakling.

But then haughtiness showed to me its true face.

That of a hag not that of a lovely face.

Scorned I am to fall as its prey.

Humiliated, to my dismay.

So friend, thou hast lend ears of thine

Now I offer to lend mine.

I seek of counsel from thee

I'll listen very carefully.