Every word I write is scrutinized by poetry —
whether it carries a sublime message
does not depend on the poet.
The sequence of words comes from an unknown place
the poet is unaware of.
Only the reader knows how a poem comes to life.
The poet is merely an onlooker;
he pleads with words for a little favor.
Often he goes to sleep with empty hands —
sad, forlorn —
not a poem, not a poem
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem