The ink in his pen
Dried up and he wrote no more
Book left unfinished
Shorn of ideas
He shred all his manuscripts
And made a bonfire
He waits patiently
For his disappearing muse
To stage a come back
He believes in his skill
And hopes that it will return
Along with his muse
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very meaningful..I like the second stanza....it speaks on the reality of the writer's difficulty getting into the work for long only in vain....a sweet poem from a sweet person..thank you Sandra