I have no magical power
to change my restlessness
into glory radiating
peace or purpose in living:
they give me no room to better
men or myself but condemn
as one hanged for nothing:
poets are no living lessons
I stand aside ruminating
what I couldn't do or be
or await miracles through
circles and zigzags of the mind
even corrupt faith and curse
destiny for the maze
of my own making and yet say
I know the spirit's upward fire
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem