When shall I write a good poem?
I have been trying to write one.
Since the day when I was born,
I have been crying to find one.

Other brothers say I write good;
I also say they too write well.
I know good poem is far far away;
I know what I read is not so well.

Let some one write something fine;
Let my life feel I am not wasted;
Let some one be born to oblige me;
Let me feel well till life lasted.

Why one will write Just to oblige me?
Must I just continue to waste me away?
Satisfied in others calling mine fine?
Satisfied in my calling others’ fine?

Have mercy, brothers, have mercy on me!
Let there be rain of good ones on me!

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(Friends, please do not feel offended by this poem.
This is only indicative of my desire for the best
and that will always remain unfulfilled
in the light of better ones always coming forth.)