I’ve heard of poems that didn’t want to be written
Because if they wanted to, they would be judging
They didn’t want to be written
For if they did, they would be accusing
Yes I’ve heard of poems that didn’t want to be written, or read
To you
For they didn’t want to be written, read or said
They rather kept their secrets for themselves
They just didn’t want to
They had their faces red
Shoulders shrugged
Eyes looking down, ashamed
Thinking it is, was and always will be
Their fault
Another solution wasn’t to be sought
It was always something they had caused
And assuming that for their words and acts
They were going to be judged, accused or criticised
And you wouldn’t believe them or, what’s worse
You’d cross their boundary, again
Even now they are not ready to be said
And secrets still considered better to stay unspoken
Remaining hidden, unshared
Forever hoping to be, finally, forgotten
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Just read your poem, it's nice! 'Even now they are not ready to be said And secrets still considered better to stay unspoken Remaining hidden, unshared Forever hoping to be, finally, forgotten' Nice thoughts that touched me, made me pensive.