Familiars and witches have long gone to bed
And still I write poetry that roars through my head.
As line follows new line my head wants to split.
I try to sift diamonds.
Recalling the new friends who gave me this life,
I relish the freedom, not missing the strife.
And, yes, there's a yearning for someone to share
As, searching for rhyme word, I take up the dare
My innermost me on each paper to place.
No armour is left me, no mask over face,
No places for hiding, my soul's being bared.
My thoughts and my feelings, for so long not shared,
Must now be made public, so that friend or foe
May know all my secrets, my fears, too, will know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem