By Walter William Safar
Poetry enriches the human soul, as it nurtures love,
compassion, freedom, and faith in people. I don’t know much about victories, but
I am sure of one thing, that compassion is a victory of the human spirit.
Yes,
I consider myself to be lucky to share my poetry with everyone regardless of
race or religion because anyone’s tears are the same color, as well as an
honest smile.
There is hope in me that you shall become my brothers in
art, in terms of literature and compassion. Let it be the beginning of a
wonderful friendship that shall be linked through small mercies. As William
Wordsworth put it beautifully: “The best portion of a good man’s life is his
little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.”
(Those who divide poets into amateurs and professionals are
wrong, because poetry is not a profession, but a state of mind-state of soul…
Each verse that brings tears to someone’s eyes remains in memory and the wise
Jean-Paul said: Our memories are the only paradise from which we can never be
expelled.)
A man’s heart is small, but it is surrounded by the
immensity of its soul. Sometimes our words may appear silent, but they are
certainly heading for infinity.
Read Walter William Safar’s
THE LAND BEYOND THE RAINBOW
You are calling me, road of dreams,
To a land beyond the rainbow,
In which diversity is the harmony of living,
In which hatred is losing the battle against love,
In which a strong spirit is virtue instead of weakness;
To a land beyond the rainbow,
In which diversity is the harmony of living,
In which hatred is losing the battle against love,
In which a strong spirit is virtue instead of weakness;
You are calling me, road of dreams,
To where reality is conceived from thousands,
Tens of thousands of dreams,
Dreams that feed the soul,
Dreams that nurture the hearts of
Dreamers from all over the world;
To where reality is conceived from thousands,
Tens of thousands of dreams,
Dreams that feed the soul,
Dreams that nurture the hearts of
Dreamers from all over the world;
You are calling me, road of dreams,
To a wonderful land of dreamers,
But I am tired,
My mornings are different now,
Full of extinguished sparks,
And the scents of weary nights
That lay beside you now,
Just like night birds,
Your weary wanderers,
Whose passion bled
Into life’s inexhaustible well.
To a wonderful land of dreamers,
But I am tired,
My mornings are different now,
Full of extinguished sparks,
And the scents of weary nights
That lay beside you now,
Just like night birds,
Your weary wanderers,
Whose passion bled
Into life’s inexhaustible well.