If ye see people fly— not a wing,
They sure are poets— autumn or spring,
Some soar high in thin air,
On paper with pen dare,
Their field sky is— not earth,
And none has enough mirth
To depend on poems for living!
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Tongue-in-cheek | 05.04.18 |
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem