What use is a vain trophy
For untouched, unread poetry?
The words and lines are thirsty
For a reader's glance, maybe?
What then are a hundred books
Published but gathering dust?
Just like many dried up brooks
Can't give water as it must.
For in the end the reason
We write and paint with pen
Is to reach with words someone
Pray our works may not be hidden.
Let them not remember names
But in their hearts there store
Phrases, meanings and not fame
What the poem was written for!
All rights reserved~~~~Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~01.24.14
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem