Still I rise I read.
Every emotion I define without words.
Every feeling I example with no thoughts.
Every imagination draw unseen dreams.
Even ear drams beat to the sound of un heard voices.
Still I rise I listen.
To metaphors that tell a different story.
To stories that sight my eyes inside the story.
To visions that turn into reality.
To a reality that was once history.
Still I rise she said.
From the dead of once never lived, I rose.
From words long lost in fear, I rose.
From unwritten scrolls, my path was written.
From ink and reed, I was born.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Another good one. I feel like your on the verge of greater things to come as a Poet