The Poet

His annals were completely amiss.
His hopes sank down an abyss.

He was far from his mother and father,
His day was the wolves' to devour.

A great wind came and smashed his abode.
Time drove away his girl and boy.

And when sorrows could not be surpassed —
He tunefully cried out Alas!

And then waited and waited,
To be praised:
How well you lamented!