A silent song befits my pen,
which flows with crystal ink.
The notes dissolve midst sapphire tears;
my rhythm's out of sync.
I felt my muse subside and fade
the day he said goodbye.
Without our secret harmony
the melody's awry.
I plead for rhyme to calm my mind
and feed the starving page.
Alas, no sympathy is found
to resurrect this sage –
Now, wrapped in blankets of despair
my spirit begs for sleep,
but still I lie in restless nights
until the verses weep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem