Bliss is just a shadow only in this world,
Haunted by the freezing winter of grief.
Mind is a senile phenomenon,
Wandering everywhere seeking pleasure;
My passions plunged its face
In the hornet’s nest of grief,
And the dreams that overwhelmed
In my eyes blossomed as flowers of agony.
When truth seeks a sanctuary
To lie down on the slings and arrows
Of outrageous calumnies,
The humans only guffaws,
Masking the conscience
With sympathetic grins on their faces...