Do you think I sit,
Unaware of my submissions?
As if I am oblivious,
To what it takes to create them?
Nor do they come easy,
Like those critics who sniff.
With a passing of judgement with it!
Free on the scene and unsolicited.
I wish I could say,
I'm not observant of this at all.
There is too much life I live,
For me to become that enthralled.
I have no ego to be massaged.
None to bring my activities,
To a complete engrossing stall.
Do you think I sit,
Unaware of my submissions?
As if I am oblivious,
To what it takes to create them?
I know I get less sleep!
And this is my only 'true' relationship,
I can say I've managed to keep!
And devoted I am.
With a divorce from it,
Nowhere to address in my mind to exist!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem