Raising my eyes towards the sky, I see lofty towers
Applied with Purple through jacaranda flowers.
How many unaccounted rains have shed here in vain?
I can but count few dews and puzzling pools hidden from view.
A lone bird fleets west-way without trace,
In trios, homing doves combine with both clouds and mist twice
How many unnamed heroes of old; subduing stubborn foes
And rallying bold troops in columns and rows
Have waged ferocious battles on this bald spot?
Pressed by hidden woe,
My heart and mind, on this matter, seem tangled vaguely in knots!
Of years gone by; in books or songs,
How many worthy deeds, unpreserved, have faded untold?
With a terrible groan or deep, deep sigh
And Facing few disintegrated monuments for long;
I vainly yearn again for the uncelebrated glories of old!