God, God, save me, save me
From the mad people,
Pseudo-scholars and critics
Maddening it all,
Thinking great,
But are not.
God, save me, save from the poets,
Poets and scholars,
The real scholars say it not
That they are,
God, save me, save me
From all those calling
And thinking high about themselves.
Agreed, Bijay. In this endless cycle of fashion, the poets rise in praise of whatever is the moments craze, chanting words with pompous passion
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Enjoiyed this...And, I think it's safe to continue writing here with the knowing that if there are such folk on this site that either claim or can credibly prove their poetic or socratic amplitude to be on a pinnacle of ''intellectclouds above us...they would have probably left here long ago...via egomania....or...lying fool! lol! Solid penning ~FjR~