by Luis G. Dato
O ache of heart fore ‘er unsatisfied,
Because it has not what it dreams to hold,
The pain augmenting as you I behold,
Who have not wits to leave off, long denied.
It is a wonder I haven’t long since died,
Seeing how futile my pretensions bold,
And swamped by centuries that ‘twixt us rolled,
Had long succumbed so far off from your side.
A miracle? perhaps a mystery
That Time still in its womb shall yet unveil.
I do not know, nor yet profess to see
The outcome of — some dream, some long-sought grail?
I only know that if for you I fail,
Life were a dream, and death my reverie!
