I am not a poet in poetry survey,
I am in dispute, for writing poetry,
From the avenues of life to center of thought,
I am common of commons on receiving solitude,
As I have nothing to offer -
I cannot offer charms,
I cannot offer dreams,
I cannot offer social justice or support,
I cannot bring hope in my words,
I cannot make resonance in word-rhythm,
I cannot make sweet music on prosody,
I cannot move one in enjoyment, in sense of love,
I cannot make a journey as a little jewel,
That holds the tameness for reading my poem,
Yet I write to hold my acquaintance
With the world that is divine on its love
For what exists on its surface as object,
And I want to learn from every object,
I want to cheer existence of all objects here,
And I want to find my way to word in word,
Those are new to me, and I do not hear earlier,
As everything on this earth
Supremely exists, even in loneliness.
