A Poet. Poem by Majid Zubedi

A poet, never developed in a day,
It's a continuous journey through the burning path;
But he never compromises with hypocrisy,
And fights against the lie till his death.

His dreams never chasing to material success,
He is the person, whom you can not deal;
Poetry is deep emotions and comes naturally,
And a poet only writes, what he feels.

Poetry is not magic and he is not wizard,
But where the sun can not, a poet can reach;
Verses can melt the arctic like hearts,
Poetry is something, no one can teach.

He sees everything through his feelings,
When a fallen leaf touched the ground;
You also hear but he listens to,
When a tiny rain-drop makes a low sound.

His sorrows are not only his own,
Everyone's tears are also in his eyes;
When his teardrops spread all over the paper,
You enjoy a new poem, whenever he cries.

Who have written before me,
I'm not such a great like those poets;
Though my poetry is in its stone-age,
But I expect to live through it.

Everyone's feelings and all sorrows of the earth,
I've also tried to compile in my poems;
From the very first day of my poetry,
I've been Crucified, on a similar cross of Bethlehem.

I will be buried in the graveyard,
And someday become a memory;
You think that I have been died,
But I will live in the library.