I can hear you call my name
from the front of the room
unknowing of what the black bar
through five letters
that you cannot see.
'Samuel? '
no reply.
'Is there a Samuel C...here? '
No.
But there is me.
Sam L C shaw
My name is continually mispronounced
even when sung for its own reasons
or stated as a question or you knowing of my existence.
I've heard it whispered and told,
yelled quite bold.
Still, there is no Samuel here.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem