Poet And The Barbarian Poem by pedro moshood

The morning may register
A new hope; that which no one can describe.
The cricket would perch nearby,
All nights long, uttering its tune.
Perhaps, it thought I thought it good,
And had hoped it kept me in good mood this dawn.

But I can't say what the tune is and what is for,
Perhaps it reflects upon the odds of lost ones
Or represent battle cry for the comrade that I slaughtered every night.

What is the value of a secret in a song
Cherished by a barbarian creature
If it cannot inspire the pen to add
Quota to the music of civilized men?

I will rather love a perfect silence
Or perhaps the whisper of dawn breeze
Than the sound of thousand barbarians,
Even though you may think it good.