Our ideas are not poetic,
They are prosaic in nature,
But if we turn out to be aesthetic,
Then will be born a different structure.
Prosaic-ideas are like friendly wind,
Directing us towards destination,
Alas! They forget to thank mind,
Which being candid doesn't earn frustration.
Prosaic-ideas are better than the poetic ones,
Running through the veins like thousand suns.
- I call it 'prosaic-ideas' since ideas in brain do not normally follow any metrical composition.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem