Even after writing for so long, I could not be a poet,
Even after so many years of practice, I am not,
The poets and critics went through my poetry
And the papers of criticism
But commented upon not in their publications.
Their letters are with me, but not their support,
They have the awards from the Govt. of India
But I have not,
Sometimes my spirit too disheartens it
As how long shall I keep working in isolation?
So many of my epical poems are lying unpublished,
There are no takers of these,
I know it that these will destroy soon
But what can I do it all alone?
It is not a question of just a few years,
It is a matter of some twenty-seven years,
Many simple fellows too have become poets
But I am not still.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem