Poetry
What can we do with hearts weighed down by grief?
Let’s not spread our anger, seeking no relief.
After all, we leave this world in the end,
We leave, turning to dust, where all paths bend.
I ponder deeply.
What do I give to this fleeting life?
Why do I write poetry every day, with such strife?
It’s not a medicine sold in a pharmacy,
Yet often, poetry heals—
Poetry is the remedy!
Without poetry, what song would fill your heart?
When sorrow has engulfed the world in every part?
When a beautiful tune rises in an evening's glow,
Suddenly, your surroundings light up and grow!
It stirs honor and shame from slumber’s hold,
Noble thoughts flow like springs of pure gold.
Cradling the Earth in its rocking embrace,
For me, Poetry alone gives life its grace!
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