SOMETIMES I HEAR THE BEAUTIFUL WORDS AND RHYTHMS IN ME
Sometimes I hear the beautiful words and rhythms in me
The music of another kind of poetry
But then it is the poetry of others I hear
Sounding it to myself
As if it were my own-
I admire the most beautiful music of poetry
I can hear it
I can live it
But I cannot write it myself
For myself
There are only the broken rhythms
Of my own mixed- up song
The eclectic harmonies
I cannot myself distinguish
What I have
What I am
Not the best
But me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem