I am a minor writer of verse
And I myself cannot say
Whether the things that I write
Deserve to be called verses.
Keeping the burning within,
Want I not to write,
Had it been better
If I had stopped from writing,
if I had ceased to be an amateur writer.
Poetry had damaged me for thirty years
And still it is damaging me,
When will my craze for getting name and fame,
Will come to a stop it?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem