Sages and poets can never interact well
With noisy human forms,
It is their precious self
Placed on saddle of high heaven,
Being too high to kiss the earthly stales.
Sometimes troubles in deadly forms
Looking dragons devour
All the priceless jewels.
But nigh to feed their impish satiety,
Some powers as divine grace ever guard them in gratitude.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very good writing, I like it, thanks. please read my poems and comment.