I don't wish to write you down,
Ink, the pens nib, scratching of paper,
Memories scurrying and darting across the mind
Down allies which have an eerie feel
Poor lighting, unformed thoughts,
The rattling echoes of doubts
Strange noises of my conscious self
Obnoxious and loud colouring of my ego,
I would rather let you be,
A sweet lullaby.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem