Poet reclining by a
stream.

. . . weariness

The silver maple's new green holds weariness:
under the redbud, in clean dirt, only weariness.

Closing the window against thunder-laden air,
I see through the screen a passerby's weariness.

Qoheleth in his bitter book complains against the wind
and finds in all that's seen or heard endless weariness.

Come, wife, and settle your head on my shoulder;
on the pillows we lean and seek to dispell our weariness.

Gino, why did you write these tiresome lines?
Don't you know that verses only mean weariness?

Poet reclining by a
stream.
Back to "Ghazals in English"

Poet reclining by a
stream.