Bob Dylan heard the voice
Of a poet who died in the gutter;
That dying voice
Then seeped into his soul
Imbuing him with beauty and truth.
And that voice
Of the old poet is now
As hard as twisted nails,
But it still has the rare beauty
Of complete honesty.
Thus I continue to follow
The great wandering gypsy of song.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem