How to compose poems
That I know not, my dear
I know not how to live.
Words, sentences and their
uses are not being
properly made by me.
I fear your silence gestures,
I fear your shapeless appearance,
I fear your backward motion.
The colours, the sounds, that are in me
is yours my dear, and I am using all these
Only to please you.
Please listen, and allow me to make you listen,
O my dear, listen, truth is being told by me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem