The last

O swearing sailors, O solitude's sighs, O dearest of love

here is a tale that has happened and happens now 

he walked through the narrow alleys of the bazaars 

he had his food with the thieves,

washed his sins in the rivers of time,

dried his griefs in the winds of solitude.

Yet a morning serves a stone in his platter.

Then the winds didn't stop by

and time rattled on.

The stars were shy 

and love was a thing too cheap.

Wisdom didn't take his thoughts to the ball

and minions swept the symphonies off the walls.

Then the fall brought a winters call

silence answered the world in a pause

And this poet leaves his ink today,

off to a world where silence is all

And he sees in a lady young,

the charm that the infant earth had once,

an anger and smile which shall make the ravens all so wise.