The young and talented artist is known to me,
In the noisy place he tries to draw an important picture,
But he miserably fails,
He feels it is due to the disturbance,
Then he moves to a silent and undisturbed sphere,
But again he fails to depict it,
So the great artist becomes very sad and dejected,
Then the wise old man comes and consoles him with pleasant words,
"Dear friend!
You can never portray a great picture now,
As your aesthetic sense is totally ineffective in this harsh time."
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem