Promise Me. My Friend,

Promise me. My friend, Promise me. Promise me to put the lines All that I wrote Before The judgment of the generations. I do not mind their sentence. I only want, want those Generations that will come To know That once was I, a suffering Human: Whose mother cried at birth As I cried too: Whose mother treasured him Alas! Too much: But made me what I am, You, my mother and my Ancient father, thrones on Which I sit. On them I wrote and thought And thought and wrote Civilization was in my ear Song and verse in my heart Thought and all in my brain-mind: But now Now No mother lays her hand on me Nor father gives his blessings by The night: Alone Alone I pine and my dorsal spine Towards the earth as an old oak Whose youthful days are done Now bend and bend. Times to me and peoples to come Will judge me. But how judge me if You lay not before them Each verse I wrote? That is question and that is your task. That is your promise. That is How to unravel my problem. Whistle; whistle to the stars. The time is come. The night with sadness Shrouded ghost and mute. I descend the steps: If no Dawn brings me up Then My friend remember Remember the promise that you made Publish my all, each every verse, Then Let the times and peoples judge And judge.