The Spring of Art and Love

The Spring of Art and Love

Did the world bow down when the place opened without worries?

I cast my bucket whenever words filled my heart with art.

She told me, "Write whenever madness arises,"

I replied, "Wait, it's not madness,

But rather enchanting words that quench the eyes.

The great spring of passion never runs dry,

And if that is its name, then welcome, spring,

For we shall nourish the hearts, every loving soul.

Wait, Vokal, for your words are art.

Today I write poetry, and tomorrow it will be a dream in an article,

Its age spanning across space and time, here to exist.

Art is a word, a verse, or a reaction,

Dressed in the robe of beauty,

And there's no place or chance for creators to be criticized.

I chose to write my words

After the surge of my longing,

Drinking meanings and expressions

From a pure and generous spring.

Thank you, Vokal, my melody,

After accepting my post,

For I am in love, just like

The lover adores the art of arts.

And praise be to the Almighty.