The Hell Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

O! The prudent poet,
I admit you know
The mysteries of muse,
The words speak themselves
In front of you,
Your poems and panegyrics,
Song and lyrics,
Similes, images and metaphors:
All versified agents of poesy
Are more precious than the gems
Diamonds, pearls and prizes;
Costly than the ancient costumes,
The strings of beads
Clustered rounds the royal necks;
Antiques of the alien lands,
And treasures of the distant fairy world;
They might have shine of the full moon,
As the words,
Like stars glow in the divine books,
But these crystals of jewels,
In black and white,
Quench not hunger of the Hell:
The cruel, brutal belly.