This is the way a poet great is made,
From fire to the frying pan of men-
By sufferings! His name can never fade!
His glory reaches earth, also Heaven.
Without their knowledge, men help him to write;
Their provocations goad him do better;
All through his life, he struggles for things right;
And in the end, God frees him from fetter.
He blames no man for things that happen fast;
But everything is predestined by God;
He thanks his foes and friends and stars all past;
His gift of poetry is from the Lord!
And when a Bard he’s made, the world is dumb!
None can believe- his siblings, dad nor mom!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem