I, who write verse every day,
rather that I could take pain away.
I'd put down the pen without a thought
and trade it away for the pain that was brought
to you.
I, who write songs every day,
rather that I could have you say
'I'm well, I'm well. I'm good again.'
I'd give it all up, these songs, this pen
for you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem