In the dull and tedious afternoon
The famous author was trying to write on a sheet of paper,
But he could not find out his great rhythm,
His writing became inferior and insipid all the time,
Being extremely angry, the noted writer tore
The paper to pieces and threw it into the dustbin.
Then he went outside and visited the open field for a long time,
Fresh and pure air soothed his realm,
In the evening he came back home
With a pleasing and satisfying mind,
Thereafter the celebrated author began to write
And found that the wonderful words were
Automatically coming in his calm and quiet domain,
His joys knew no bounds,
He became fully engrossed in his writing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem