Write poems
is my new suffering
and displays all open
cosmopolitan, me - affected
and how the soul
shines when writing
and shares with you
their suffering,
as now the two of us,
which is so close to me
and pushes me,
so I thereof
must sing
my song
with much pleasure,
that tells you
of my torments,
that I served
were a grinding mill
where I
often choked up,
the irritated me
before I swallowed,
which melted away me
well on the tongue
and puffed on me
my lungs
with words
I serve you
abounding as dessert
found
in the word kingdom
quite so,
as if we
eat together
and drink too
Soul of wine,
to forget
suffering,
lives in poetry
thus itself
listen to your worth.
(C) All rights reserved
Floy Dy Ra,04/09/2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem