Melancholia

Alas, O, Sweet thee, Can thou forgive this pitiful self.

    Once upon a time, the zephyr was my comrade;

                                    Nowadays, melancholia, the foe of the zephyr,

                                    Be my companion blocking me from unlocking

                                    The door that holds me in this gloomy place.

 

                                    In front of the pitch-dark gate, among the faint memories,

                                    I dare shed tears on the floor of flames that long for my knees.

                                    The tears elicit the memories of you who are a story I've never read;

                                    However, the flames kindle a light on the vagueness of the memories.

                                   

                                    Staring at the starlit night-sky, it seems the night-sky is amicable;

                                    It seems the stars have hope that I have never even dared to own.

                                    Jealousy aroused from staring at the night-sky just renders

                                    Self-criticisms, which rebuke my being and deny the fate.

 

                                    In lives of humans, humans go in one direction given by the fate,

                                    Which be rendered when the god initiates the roulette, wherein

                                    Wheels exist for the sake of fairness and frankness of life,

                                    And, balls exist for the sake of despairs and hopes toward life.

                                   

                                    Dreaming of deviating from the course that I should follow,

                                    Hardships just seclude me from the world and secular heart;

                                    Thus, I attempt to kindle a light at the edge of the gloom;

                                    Nonetheless, the moon and stars never try to face me.

 

                                    Carrying this solitude, trying to convey my love, striving for hope,

                                    And longing for the memories, I dare hold the hand of the Saint.

                                    Light from the one who stands by himself, hope from the torso of

                                    The knight, and dream aroused from my faintheartedness now fly.

                                   

                                    In the seriousness of life, there lies a truth;

                                    Which antagonizes humanity.

                                    In the humor of life, there lies a lie;

                                    Which satiates the needs of humanity.

                                    In the essence of life, humans prefer the humor.

                                    If Doom not exist, Death be only for one;

                                    If Light not exit, Life be only for one.

Reviews

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Really nice! Have you taken any formal poetry classes? You seem to me to have talent after reading a couple of your poems. I like how deep your writing is, and linguistically, you use pretty intricate terminology and word choice. I think that you can improve the rhythm in your poems though; try reading them aloud after you write. For example, in your second stanza, you say "However, the flames..." and if you had not included that, the end of the stanza would flow much nicer. In that same line, you use the word "the" three times. If you replaced the third the with "my," it would cause the line to flow nicer as well. Repetition of words/phrases can be a great thing and is completely viable in poetry, but minor words such as "the" or "as" can throw off the flow of the poem. Unless you were purposely were going for that, then carry on :)