A poet is a star, with promise;
Day in and day out to galvanize;
In books, newspapers, magazines,
And on the net, in the mind, truly wise.
Fighting to be clever with words and rhymes;
Emitting out, the best, world should recognize.
Corrals too multifaceted for simple prose,
Visions too new to be commented in mother language.
But the poetry we produce and patronize,
Floats to our ears shaped in prose,
Expressed by guests, trying to compromise;
The impenetrability of daily life and its size;
The pointlessness of dissent and cries;
The yearning to someway resolve and utilize;
The existence of a generous God and His gaze;
In the existence of apathy and haze.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The existence of a generous God and His gaze; In the existence of apathy and haze. very true!