A poem is a pane of glass:
For the poet,
This glass is a mirror:
Pure with poems from the heart,
Cracked and shattered in fiction.
But like every broken mirror,
You can still see your reflection.
A poem is a pane of glass:
For a reader,
The glass is a simple window.
This window looks into a maze -
The labyrinth of a poet’s heart.
Staring in from the outside,
The window is somewhat foggy,
Which gives only a vague view
Into the life of the poet.
All poets are humans on this Earth -
Among many who inhabit
This growing planet -
And the windows they create
Let sunlight shine into their lives;
Perhaps to shed light on their fate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem