Words bounced around my brain.
They caused no sunshine,
Only rain.
These words struggled,
To emanate.
They were words at any rate.
But they struggled,
To get into poetry form.
They struggled into a mental storm.
Still the story couldn't come out.
It stayed in the writer's mind.
This story was a one of a kind.
Then one day,
The writer sat down,
In the words that were coming out.
The words became a story that everyone read out loud.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem