Exile

He left his native abode To build monuments Under another sky He burdened himself With many a gift of piety Borrowed no stale tidings He left behind a tarnished reputation Sociable clans conjoined- Endure this tale of poverty He no longer recites poems No longer lops branches For a richer view of the blue hills Those gleaming delights Paled into thoughts of grief Plying his trade Those sorrows of home Goaded the exile’s heart Oh, age of tenderness! The years drifted by Gentle elegance- stifled with dust Obscured the delicate splendour Of flowers along silver streams His intellect could no longer Discourse on philosophy Nor his pilloried benevolence Shed his woes Balancing his frail fortune On love and pride He summoned sages To counsel his Prefect.