A King and a Poet

One was born in a mansion
And in a cottage another one.
Both grew in places of their own
Having between no relation.
One tasted the life’s smoothness
The other the adversity’s sweetness.
One by hereditary became a king
The other as good poet did sing.
Glows with gems the king’s palace
In simplicity smiles the poet’s residence.
The king’s tone commands each and everyone
But from poet’s pen verses flow on and on.
They did know each other
But none for either did care.
For, more each one did in life
Respect each one’s dear self.
In fear do, the people honour the king.
But freedom and love the poet’s glory sing.
To serve the king only the paid are bound,
But service comes to poet, from all around
The king’s sword rains the blood
But the poet’s pen begets beauty’s world.
This whole world the king may reign
But the poet can rule even the Divine.
With himself dies the king’s name
But rises to heights the poet’s fame.
Only as a statue the king stands
But in the people’s memory the poet ever lives.

(Translated by the author from Telugu)