“You’ll never be a poet, sir! ”
I’ve heard the others cry.
As if the thought had not occurred…
It has, I can’t deny.
“There’s nothing here for you to gain!
Your prospects are quite bleak.
You’ll break your leg on rough terrain
Or drown in Poet’s Creek…”
Yet still I dream of striking gold-
The nuggets left behind
By poets who were not as bold
Or else were simply blind.
I found some land and staked a claim
A plot of virgin earth
I’ll try my best and feel no shame
And come to know my worth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem