Bleak Night

In the dark and bleak winter night The poet writes, But he slips again and again From his superior poetic feelings, Dark and obscene thoughts come and prevent his sublime rhythm. The great poet thinks and thinks in his alert and conscious mind How to come out of this dire straits, But his efforts prove futile. The intellectual poet does not give up hope so easily, He realizes the utter futility of the conscious realm in the cold and gloomy environment. So he plunges into another world, the superior unconscious world with deepest concentration and emotion And there, it's only there.......he finds his refined poetic rhythm, The noted poet eventually succeeds to find out his glorious touch, Plenty of light pervades his realm, His eyes sparkle with great delight And he writes wonderful poetry.