Flowing.
Flowing like a river.
Awakened from sleep
By an ocean of thoughts—
Ceaseless, like the waves.
They come throughout the night:
Verse after verse,
Poem after poem,
And title after title.
I scramble for my pen
To jot the thoughts within
Or else lose them for eternity.
Then suddenly at daylight,
The flow of inspiration ceases.
And I rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
They come by night and leave by day-I have the same problem.My muse is a dream waker-enjoyable and somewhat realistic