While sitting at my desk one day
In the pleasant month of May
Idling the time away
My thoughts to Chaucer’s Tales did stray.
For days on end I had sat perturbed
By thoughts of writer’s block disturbed
Grasping helplessly for words
That on appearing began to blur.
And so like all men who share my pursuit
I did my predecessors’ writing loot
For story lines that might take root
And on my own tree of life bear fruit.
Anon I did begin my perusal
Believing I’d have had the approval
Of Geoffrey for the removal
Of some plot lines for a renewal
Of two gentleman in love with one
Who once the story had begun
Would from friend to foe become
Until the lady’s heart was won.
And so if you imagine me
Guilty of the crime of plagiary
To you your conscience I will leave
And to my own pray thee leave me!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem