No great poet can write for the sake of writing
He needs to scribble with the real feeling
Lest his writing should be devoid of meaning
Real poetry is the heart’s incessant pouring
Like a player she needs some rest
Or she can’t write with the right zest
Her work gets really faded
And her mind becomes a bit jaded
Sometimes a poet may get depressed
His heart and soul might slightly be compressed
But a blooming flower can make him blessed
The rising sun might get him refreshed
Writing poetry is a divine inspiration
Its like a wedding invitation
The bride and the groom have conjugal emotion
The poet needs a keen perception and perfection
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem