Owning a soul is hard for a poet,
let it be-
the driving force for putting word to page,
their only Undoing.
For poets look to gut their minds-
to create physicality to feeling,
But what they're feeling,
so deep inside,
emotions words cannot seem to frame,
It torments the poet, and
drives them mad.
Is it fair to the poet—
that each word can be enough to relate,
But to grasp and release, Impossible?
For what a poet's soul needs to say-
is the hardest poetry to write.
And thus they suffer,
never able to grasp the right words
their own soul yearns to say.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem