I cannot write for passion;
I cannot write for love,
but the substitute that I'm literate for,
is all of blue, nothing above.
I cannot write for future,
I cannot write for life,
but the semantics that I'm digging for,
are stress-related strife.
I cannot write for magic,
I cannot write for you,
but the ingredients I'm longing for,
are words which are not above the colour blue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem