Within your heart your pen does write.
Upon your pages your feelings fight.
With your hearts emblazened and your candlelight.
Your simple poems about your life.
The things you read and all that strife.
Your worries and woes and your plight.
The lives you lead and the men you freed.
The people of fortune and all thier greed.
The poets you quote and the men who fleed.
The writers you loved you did decree.
With your pen you did agree.
But that's not me.
Upon my scroll it does read.
If quoting you a poet is me.
Then I must disagree.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem