Do Not Ask
Do not ask us,
O dear readers!
Do not ask a poet
Why or how the poems are written,
By which womb they are begotten.
From heavenly height they
Come and descend upon us
Like the drops of rain
Which fall on green leaves
Rocking them again and again.
Like the leaves we tremble-
We tremble in joy, and utter what
Bring you delight, and cleanse your pain.
Do not ask us,
O readers!
Do not ask.
Can you ask a Naghtingale, "Why do you sing?
Can you ask "Why are you so fair?" to spring?
The words we write
Are only the shadows
On white paper of what we see.
Surface of the calmest pond we need,
Where, to match our transient joy,
We'll write- after a flash, it will flee!
Do not ask us,
O dear readers!
Do not ask a poet
Why or how the poems are written-
A poem is but an epitaph
For the dead joy already forgotten.
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Comments
Your poem is absolutly beautiful, I cant stop reading it over and over. wow.
Thank you for your inspiring words...
Beautiful! Absolutely beautiful one!
Greetings Ratul,
Very inspiring poem!! for all poets to come, those that has departed and to the many still entrenched, as we speak, with their pencils and pens meticulously placing the shadows of their many thoughts, experiences and even fairy tales on the canvases of our minds once we have been inoculated with their poems by the writer....
Very well conveyed,
Jim