Said my Monsignor:
In verse, press more and
More
To rise more and more
Replied the Poet Seer:
I press not
But resigned
Without expectation
Bend my head:
It be then that I rise
I rise, I rise!
Then
Intelligent
My Monsignor said:
‘And then
In direct proportion
Verses rise’
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem