Here,
in my beloved study
at the magic hour,
I drink the breathing night,
with just the comforting tick
of the clock, a whispering metronome
to soften the silence
as I imbibe the slow-flavoured excellence
of poetry that finds my soul
and wings my spirit
and paints alive the canvas
of my imagination,
my dog at my feet
and my cat at my elbow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem