No, I’m not uninspired,
The ideas are still flowing.
My “poetic engines” are still fired,
But the words are so unknowing.
They all seem insufficient,
They seem to demean and shame.
What I write and what I meant
Never seem to be the same.
Let’s start from the beginning,
There I see you in my head.
With numerous thoughts spinning,
They’re easily misread.
I want to say “I love you”,
Write down how I truly feel.
I form a line I think will do,
Then watch it slowly peel.
When I think of you, Sweetheart,
My thoughts are most sincere,
But when on paper the feelings start
To fade and disappear.
So if it seems I’m writing less
Than I wrote before,
It’s cause it’s harder to express
Words that now mean so much more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem