The night owl sings to me,
a song of peace...
Verses of forgotten bards,
come to me, in unforgotten dreams
The pen drives on, unconscious,
only half formed words, remain......
I am merely a puppet,
dancing to the rhythm of a dismal tune
The puppeteers cacle, from far away
Sometimes I think for myself,
do I really write my own?
I have made my peace with this silence,
Answer my deathly call,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem