A poet’s not the one who writes a word,
But one whose heart has truly heard –
Who’s lived their years, felt dreams of old,
And set them down in ink, untold.
Your first night in the fading light,
Your first breath among the muses’ sight,
Your first verse upon this stage so bright,
Your poetic elixir, pure and right.
Your first glimpse of the poets’ world so wide,
Your first look at kindness, deep inside,
Your first view of songs the ages hide,
Where endless struggle cannot be denied.
Saint Petersburg, 2016
Фото из архива автора. Санкт-Петербург, 2019
Photo from the author’s archive.
Saint Petersburg, 2019.
A poet is not the one who writes a word
© Copyright: Виктор Ассоров, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126032004994
Свидетельство о публикации №126032004994
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