THE POLE STAR

      Someone points at a red mark on my cheeks,

And tattles in your ear that,

It’s an impression of her nail-paint,

A testimony of my unfaithfulness,

And my notorious conduct.

The pole star of your love

Get shaken with malicious motive,

Of the wily impostor tempest.

The glitter of your trust in me,

Fade into gloomy disbelieve in a jerk.

I fall from the sky of your good book,

Into the grave of deep depression,

Not because of the possibility of losing you,

But because of your doubt in the integrity,

Of the man who loved you so very much.

When I toil to prove my innocence,

I feel I distrust the sustainable capabilities of truth,

Near the ephemeral malicious fabrication.

I feel I do injustice to your mature intelligence,

And unbiased judgments of things.

I assure my impatient heart,

Even though it’s a short interval of tough time,

The truth will come out triumphant soon,

And the pole star will shine vigorous,

Like a gold ornament glitters more, going through the fire.