The great poet wonders,
His poetic realm is an enigma to him,
Sometimes poetry comes to him abundantly
And all day he writes beautiful and serene poetry with great ease and delight;
But sometimes it does not come to him at all,
In spite of his utmost endeavour,
The celebrated bard can not compose a truly sublime line of a poesy,
This is always mysterious to him,
How is it possible?
The renowned poet ponders deeply about it,
Eventually he realises in his tranquil mind that
It is the ultimate truth of the poetic emotions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem