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Everyone sat in rows
In the hands of everyone,
Writing his own poetry
They were reading again
Will recite

Then I was a young poet
My poems were formed
By the faces and eyes
Rain stung like
My pen was flowing as wild
As a vigorous stream

In front,
Sitting too many famous poet
Not too aged,
Writing judged
Equal to the hills of Fame
Expanding their scope as the sea
Many ahead of his time
A lot of poetry grew them legend

I will read the poem in front of them
Vibrating my heart and hands,
Throat was dry
Remembering the words of Robert Frost,
"And Miles to go before I sleep"
As if,
Repeatedly I touched
The new Spirit,
The Flame in the body
And the poem that would accelerate

It was a festival
Nothing else
Soundly a great festival of poetry
There so many poets came from
In Country and Abroad

I guessed,
I guessed
I have to recite my own
Should do at least once
Should do at least once

@Musfiq us shaleheen