When poetry is deftly penned,
It has the power to briefly lend,
A key to open up extant,
Emotions that lie dormant.
Our daily lives are strewn with stress,
Our feelings, deep inside, repressed,
A moment’s pause, to briefly read.
Another’s thoughts can relieve the need.
Death is the ultimate rest,
But avoiding that deep slumber's, best,
Peace of mind, and remaining calm,
Are helped by poetries, proven charm,
The next time, life to you seems Sad,
And everything you do turns bad,
Pick up a tome of proven worth,
And it will Salve your moods low dearth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem