is it the pen
that I can not write
or is that the paper?
is my mouth getting smaller
or just my words
are getting greater?
is it my heart
that I can not love
or was that my creator?
he who at the same time
made me to a servant
and betrayer
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There is a Biblical feel to this one - a Judas moment, perhaps? I particularly like the second stanza 'is my mouth getting smaller'. All is relative is it not? By the way, I think you mean creator in stanza three. Your work is not overcrowded with words. I like that. Many poets say too much. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥