The World with 100,000 Poets

The world resounds like a garden of flowers,
One hundred thousand hearts, one hundred thousand words,
Poets hold light in their hands,
Like candles that never go out.

Every line is a bridge over distant rivers,
Every verse a butterfly with no boundaries,
From the high mountains, from the depths of the seas,
Sing together for love.

Poets sow hope in the land,
With feathers flowing like springs,
The kind word ignites humanity,
Like a blue star above the moon.

They cannot bear the black war,
They do not accept wounds or foreign tears,
With verses that break chains and shackles,
Raise the flag that hearts burn.

In Africa, the drums of life beat,
In Europe, the violin makes sounds,
In Asia and America, verses shine,
Like a rainbow above the rain, like small birds.

Children of the world, in playgrounds and schools,
Recite verses in a clear voice,
Poetry becomes the bread of the soul,
It becomes a breath that never dies.

Poets are soldiers of peace,
With bladed weapons—kind words—
They build castles in the heart,
Against darkness, against cruelty.

One hundred thousand poets, one song,
Like a choir that awakens all of humanity,
From their verses tomorrow is born,
The world becomes a temple of love.