I saw you
Never before
But something
I feel
In my mind,
Which I can not explain
You do not have
The beauty which mesmerises
Nor have you
The prettiest face
You are just another
Normal human being
But my heart sings
A song
Full of praise
Of it
I never heard
That before
And it speaks to me
So softly
As wind speaks
To the trees
Before I can say
Anything
You are gone
Drops of tears fall
On the floor
I do not suppose
To realise it coming
As it was such
A spontaneous overflow
Classical thinkers employed classification as a way to define and assess the quality of poetry. Notably, the existing fragments of Aristotle's Poetics describe three genres of poetry—the epic, the comic, and the tragic—and develop rules to distinguish the highest-quality poetry in each genre, based on the underlying purposes of the genre.[15] Later aestheticians identified three major genres: epic poetry, lyric poetry, and dramatic poetry, treating comedy and tragedy as subgenres of dramatic poetry.[16] Aristotle's work was influential throughout the Middle East during the Islamic Golden Age, [17] as well as in Europe during the Renaissance.[18] Later poets and aestheticians often distinguished poetry from, and defined it in opposition to prose, which was generally understood as writing with a proclivity to logical explication and a linear narrative structure.[19]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
true beauty lies deep within not to be judged. the leaving can be hurtful. I like this one