The time I deny the world, to my poetry I freely give,
The most sensitive secrets I hide from my family,
In the nucleus of my poetry I joyfully hide.
The feelings which words cant adequately explain,
On my muse, I roughly impose and confine
For he alone knows me from within and without.
When am annoyed, my poetry calms me down,
In tears, my poetry comforts and restores me,
In moments of joy, my poetry portrays me in my words,
And paints a picture of me for my tomorrow's eye.
I am in my poetry, just as my poetry is in me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem