They called me mad...!
They yelled me freak...!
They shouted me nut...!
They drove me off
From any four legs summoned
They tore my scraps
They curse my life
They banish me out
But, at last when I met my Satan with burning belly...,
They named me The poet, The philosopher, The Saviour
And The friend
And made a great statue out of pure Gold
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A good start with a nice poem, Aamir Joyci. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.