You may not, at all, appreciate
Each and every poem I create,
I'll let all your criticisms be
For they don't mean anything to me.
My poems, to you, may not have beauty
But they help me keep my sanity.
Let my verses be the deep darkness
That stresses your poems' fineness,
Mind not if I don't become famous
But go gild your way up Parnassus.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem