I stare at this clean slate
and wander through
the desolate canyon of my mind
waiting for visions to come down like rain
and splash on to the vacant page
that lies patiently in front of me.
Images and words float about
like autumn leaves in a panicking wind
but the ideas flee from sight
into the deep pockets of my mind
now all that remains is my desire to write
and it lies patiently in front of me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem