No, no, I am not a poet,
Whatever, I see or hear
Just paints on the canvas
With the brush of perception,
In your heart and mind,
I am sure, I am not a blind,
You search and find,
I am trying to beautify my self,
Beautifying through you; the nature
Just I am pick grief, sorrow, pain, cry...
Put into the bin, to show you,
Dust is the colour of life
I always search happiness inside the bin,
I put all the colour of life
Into the canvas,
'Tis a compass to find the direction
To walk on the road of life
No, no I am not a poet
Just paints to ease my self
Many colour, with your colour,
You are my inspiration
You are my guide
You all are nothing but a paint
I put you all on my canvas,
Ah! canvas of life without coulor
So barren, so sad, tasteless
It fades and I paint
Work will go on till I last breathe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem