"Shall I stop it? "
I asked myself frustratingly,
"Yes, stop it, "I got the answer from my conscience,
Immediately I stopped writing poetry and then fell asleep, reluctantly though.
At midnight someone slapped my unconscious mind,
At once I woke up in cold perspiration,
Thereafter I opened the front door anxiously
And found the gentle breeze was blowing with ease,
It was calling me to write.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A refined poetic imagination, Anjandev. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.