The Life of a Poet
For me the whole universe is a stage
The past, the present, the future, every people, every age
I ride on the wings of my imaginations and they take me to my next place
I can write on history, mysteries and on every thing my pen can engage
I am a poet, a poet
My pen and I are in perfect harmony
I don't write for fame, neither for money
But my words are the explanation of my emotions
Endless like a sky and deep like an ocean
They tell my hatred, fears and devotions
I am a poet, a poet
In people eyes I can see the pain
I have the gift through which emotions can be explained
I sit alone in the silence of nights, people think that I am insane
But by sitting alone, nature is what I see and peace is what I obtain
I am a poet, a poet
One moment I am kissing a girl, next I am in another century
One moment I am on Earth, next I am swimming in the lakes of mercury
One moment I am a child, next I am celebrating my wedding anniversary
One moment I am a thief, next I am helping to stop burglary
I am a poet, a poet
Last year I saw a white glistening olive tree
Neither of west nor of East
A tree which would glow even if wash my sea
It was full of fruit for animals and beast
There I had my dinner with angels and priests
Then I had on the wings of my imaginations and I was released
I am a poet, a poet
Being a poet I have experienced a world with compassionate cries
A world where there was no act of kindness, empath dies
Where the wolves lives in sheeps clothing and devil lives in disguise
There was not even a single wise guy, it was a world full of lies
A dark place where the sun neither sets nor rise
I am a poet, a poet
I have also experienced a world where angels sing you lullabies
A place where nobody ever cries, where only love and love lies
Justice prevails all over it, even lion and deer lives in peace
Here the birds wake you up with their sweet melodies
I am a poet, a poet
The example of my words can be found in oceans which flow
My inspiration can be found in thousand flakes of snow
I can write on beauty which falls in the form of rain
Or on the beauty I see in the fields of ripening grain
I understands the melody of the bird which sings
In my dreams, I imagine thousand splendid things
I am a poet, a poet
23 September 2018
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