The great author writes,
But everybody criticizes,
As they believe his writings
Are old and obsolete.
The amiable author realizes
He has to cope with the harsh time,
So he changes himself accordingly
And writes against his will.....
Just like a dead soul.
In spite of it everybody praises his writings,
The noble author mutters himself cautiously,
"How strange!
How can a dead soul write great things? "
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
In spite of it everybody praises his writings, The noble author mutters himself cautiously, " How strange! How can a dead soul write great things? ... Superb poem.. thanks