In the world of thoughts
I build a palace of poetics;
My poems in the form of chandeliers
hang from the ceiling of my mind:
From womb to tomb I am to weep
On sheet and shroud I am to sleep.
Where is the joy that can be felt?
I get its taste when I compose a couplet.
The saddest moments in the poetic light
Make me aware and inspire to write.
The inspired thoughts make the vision clear
And lift me to the heights of a universal seer.
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