My poems are for my treasure readers
poetry lovers and my soul friends.
My Muse whispers to my eager ears
and they put my heart in poetic trance.
Often with a feverish quake I wake
and leave some gibberish notes
as a holy ritual and a faddish habit.
Seen sights and heard sounds
and many things around that abound
may gush out through prose crevice.
The exposed mystery in smart tales
may reach out to many as modern parables
and the poet may be known more as an author
than a poet in story readers` wide circle.
Yet, believe me, I love to die as a poet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem