A thousand thoughts are throbbing in my brain;
I need to note them down. I shall not sleep
Until I've typed them up. I can't restrain
This wild word-whirlwind of ideas that keep
Returning to disturb my rest. Instead
Of pleasure from that lie-in I desired
After a busy working week, my head
Will not stop spinning with these lines. I'm tired
But still I'm forced to turn my laptop on
And hammer from the keys this urgent verse,
A simple sonnet, yet another one.
This poetry bug is now perhaps a curse
Which will not go away; it likes a fight
And battles with my brainwaves through the night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem