you cannot steal my poem
it is in my mind
you cannot put an end to my poem
it is alive
it has the wings of an eagle
flying high
nesting on a cliff
a very high cliff
beyond the grasp of my hands
it is wild
as wild as the cobra in the forest
but when i recall it back
in my memory
it becomes gentle as a dove
as tamed as
my dog
wagging its tail behind my
back
it becomes a tamed horse
waiting for my
ride.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem