Midnight poetess calls her star,
an orb of wisdom spawned in space
Then when the time is perfect,
she gazes at the heavens grace
On and on she pens her thoughts,
throughout the celestial starry skies
With hopes they do a better job,
than the ungrateful human race of lies
The world could never truly shine,
without the light of poetry
As the sunset bids the day sweet dreams,
the night sets inspiration free
The star is but a sacred book,
with a place inside for you and me
For a world can never really shine,
without the light of poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem