My son asked me to write a poem.
A school project he said
My peers just laughed, but I’ll show ‘em.
I’ll write a poem that’ll be read.
I’ve already reached the second verse.
This is a piece of cake!
My poem will earn me fortune and fame.
The world is mine, for heaven’s sake!
But, panic sets in. Inspiration grows thin.
The third verse is already here.
Such wisdom and wit are trapped in my pen.
Trapped there forever, I fear.
Lord, let this be the final phrase.
For my sprint has slowed to a crawl.
I sit at my desk in a hopeless daze,
And realize I’m no poet at all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem