Poetry is poetry
And it is tongue,
It is words,
It is ears,
It is silenced,
It is languages,
It is heart,
It is mind,
It is time,
It is dream,
It is life itself.
Poetry talk to itself,
For progress,
For fire,
For air,
For sugar and salt,
With love,
With passion,
With rage,
With smile,
Showing its
Own Dance
On earth
And in the sky.
Poetry separates
Makes and unmakes.
Poetry has its
Own confidence
To move forward
To measure the depth
Of the self.
Poetry flourish,
Poetry vanishes
Through doubt
In life in shadow.
But poetry discovers
Light and opens
The new path always.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem