No no, it doesn't come
Truth does not come in words
The poet hides the pain and serves with a garland of happy words.
the inner agony remains silent in the sleeves
The text is arranged exactly the words that the reader wants to read
Which creates the desire to read poetry
Readers can applaud
Invitations to the prize-giving function may come
In this way a poet gradually became a skilled actor
The poet loses the soil while wandering in the illusory garden of arranged words
A pile of burnt ashes is deposited in the chest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well done.... brilliant stroke....5* from me. Thanks for sharing with us./PC