From my window, dark dreary
Of the nonsense, grown weary
Incessant mind numbing chatter
Not knowing what's the matter
Solitude, a brief respite
To my heart, it brings much delight
In my lair below
Soaking up the heater's pleasing glow
A vision appearing within
Creation flowing from my pen
Formation of love
Free from the strife above
Focusing my mind's eye
While the ink begins to dry
Furiously I write
The flame of creation, I ignite
Joy no money can buy
My passion, the reason why
The artist's tapestry complete
Eyes closing, I recline in my seat
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
indeed, let it flow outward blissfully