Paroles de Thus Far

Thus Far Reach for the doctrine I am; Oh, scholars so trivial With witless prosodies of thine Thou wield mimic desolation Never semantic pain... Thus far Do I pine for thee? Like melting of snow So sure yet so slow Is the poets´ craft Thus done All the sorrows, my silent syllables Who intempereth with life Shall drunk with emotion of Stentorian choir, orchestra of fall That I recite with awe But lo, no word can grasp That spark Thus far Do I pine for me? Bereave over a gift That´s forced, not given Like melting of snow So sure yet so slow Is the poets´ craft Adored?