God, my God,
May I confide in You to say,
Even if they are not…
“Say, say you, my son,
Fear you not, I am,
I am with you,
Say, say without hesitation, ”
Said the Almighty God.
My God, my God,
Fear it they may hear,
Overhear us talking!
“Who, who will,
Say you fearlessly,
There’s nothing to worry, ”
My God, save me, save me
The petty men writing petty-petty things,
The petty-petty men of petty-petty ideas and thoughts,
The poetasters, non-poets, commoners, versifiers and rhymers
All of those calling themselves
Poet not, great poets.
Shakespeare, Milton, Spenser, Wyatt, Drayton,
Herrick, Herbert, Vaughan, Marvell,
Wordsworth, Keats, Shelley,
Arnold, Eliot, Auden,
Save me, save me from these pseudo-intellectuals.
One calling oneself a Wordsworth even though is not,
One oneself a Keats even if one is not,
One oneself a Shelley
And hearing them contradict I,
They will come lashing me
And I shall have to bear the consequences
Of releasing statements
Asking me to withdraw
All those pseudo-intellectuals gone mad,
I mean the people of some emotional disorder,
From the mad people’s house,
The mad-mad men. .
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem