He who writes poetry is not a poet. He whose poetry has become his life, and who has made his life his poetry — it is he who is a poet. - Subramanya Bharathi

யாமறிந்த மொழிகளிலே தமிழ்மொழி போல் இனிதாவது எங்கும் காணோம்po

Unbearable becomes the pain in my heart — When I think of my people, broken down, broken by disease in mind and limb.<p> On the edge of life they always linger; For countless are the diseases Of Ignorance and Hunger.<p> And on treacherous paths to Slavery like children blind, they would walk behind
strangers from over the sea. <p> O, divine Land, blessed by the gods! O, ancient Mother of Culture and Art! Thy children today are spineless hordes.

கவிதை எழுதுபவன் கவியன்று. கவிதையே வாழ்க்கையாக உடையோன், வாழ்க்கையே கவிதையாகச் செய்தோன், அவனே கவி