Whenever I pick my pen
To let my muddled thoughts flow,
Words fly helter skelter from my brain
Like a flock of sheep pursued by a lion.
I write to watch grief float away into oblivion
Like dandelion seeds ruffled by a mischievous wind.
Like the smirk lurking on Cupid's cheeks as he scurries away
After the crime of love is perpetrated,
I write to carry out the mischief of pricking with laughter.
And as I watch millilitre by millilitre my ink spin art upon wood,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem