Japan Poem by Matsuo Basho The old pond by Matsuo Basho

Furuike ya kawazu tobikomu mizu no oto

The old pond-a frog jumps in, sound of water.

Chinese Poem

A Morning Dream by Li Ching Chao

This morning I dreamed I followed Widely spaced bells, ringing in the wind, And climbed through mists to rosy clouds. I realized my destined affinity With An Ch'i-sheng the ancient sage. I met unexpectedly O Lu-hua The heavenly maiden. Together we saw lotus roots as big as boats. Together we ate jujubes as huge as melons. We were the guests of those on swaying lotus seats. They spoke in splendid language, Full of subtle meanings. The argued with sharp words over paradoxes. We drank tea brewed on living fire. Although this might not help the Emperor to govern, It is endless happiness. The life of men could be like this. Why did I have to return to my former home, Wake up, dress, sit in meditation. Cover my ears to shut out the disgusting racket. My heart knows I can never see my dream come true. At least I can remember That world and sigh.

Korean popular poem

Grass by Kim Su-yng The grass is lying flat. Fluttering in the east wind that brings rain in its train, the grass lay flat and at last it wept. As the day grew cloudier, it wept even more and lay flat again. The grass is lying flat. It lies flat more quickly than the wind. It weeps more quickly than the wind. It rises more quickly than the wind. The day is cloudy, the grass is lying flat. It lies low as the ankles low as the feet. Though it lies flat later than the wind, it rises more quickly than the wind and though it weeps later than the wind, it laughs more quickly than the wind. The day is cloudy, the grass's roots are lying flat.

Phillipine famous Poem writer

Silent Mark by Cecilia Borromeo
another day is here and my hands are still covered with a mantle of stoic ink words scribbled on a hesitant paper wishing to be read now not later. i want you to see this point-like light from an abyss growing tongues tasting the wind feel like the knife scraping soft butter and see that small things matter. but i still have no sense of complete abandon to let the ink burn, to let it leak until it forms a crystallized dew becoming, at last, your scar tissue.

Famous Egyptian Poem

Clouds by Yahia Lababidi
to find the origin, trace back the manifestations. Tao

Between being and non-being barely there these sails of water, ice, air Indifferent drifters, wandering high on freedom of the homeless Restlessly swithering like ghosts, slithering through substance in puffs and wisps Lending an enchanting or ominous air luminous or casting shadows, ambivalent filters of reality Bequeathing wreaths, or modesty veils to great natural beauties like mountain peaks Sometimes simply hanging there airborne abstract art in open air Suspended animation continually contorting: great sky whales, now, horse drawn carriages unpin point able thought forms, punctuating the endless sentence of the sky.

African Famous writer

Still I Rise by Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops. Weakened by my soulful cries. Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard 'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines Diggin' in my own back yard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I'll rise. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history's shame I rise Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.

Indonesian famous poem writer and Famous Poem Prologue by Sukasah Syahdan
1/ The taste of a poem is in the relishing sweet, sour or bitter cold, lukewarm or hot The test of a poem is in the nourishing undying, fleeting or naught its effect in the heart 2/ Here are the lines that got stuck in the jam on their way to your heart Possibly the very words you had cried out loud but got outroared by the noises down the path Driving my quill alone I have taken them all along somewhere never by-passed