As the poet, you are not the master,
But only the follower,
Let the muse awake your senses and stir your passions,
Like a poor blind beggar seek after rations,
Stay behind and know your place,
The muse will lead you and show her face,
Do not force her for she will not comply,
Only be ready at the quick to note her,
And listen for her cry.
Poems can not be fashioned without inspiration
That is the life-blood of the ruse;
When you are not looking for her,
She will show herself with muse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Profound rendition on the mystery of poetry written with clarity of thought and mind. Well conceived and nicely brought forth with insight. Thanks for sharing and do remain enriched.