Today,
I have no music,
I can't seem to write,
Force is not might,
For you can't force feelings,
And you can't pretend height,
If you are not feeling, the right inspiration,
No matter what your poetic inclination,
That day or that night,
Poor little birdie-poet
You most certainly won't,
Be able to write.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Few things are as frustrating. Even when the muse seems to strike, I am often not satisfied and that is frustrating too.