now i think i know
what poetry is
it is
everyday
it is not
a form
but a thought
it is beyond thoughts
even
it is a stream
of emotions
and there is a boat
that sails beneath them
there is no rudder
neither sail
there are only hands
that feel
the cascading waters
feet that dangle on the
river
straining the coldness
of the eddies
there is the peace
of the sky
there is the freedom
of the drifting
of the clouds
it is foremost
a dedication and hence
it is as i am telling you
and everyday
affair
here
is the ordinariness of poetry
that most men
do not take seriously
that the world
cannot really believe
thinking that this is talent
and tact
no,
it is everyday
it is defecation
it is breathing
it is strolling
it is eating breakfast
and smoking at the park
it is sleeping and running
and holding hands
it is everyday
it is everything
it is not peculiar
or extraordinary
this is my
poetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem