Why do I write this poem, this day,
With the morning sky bright, and the world on its way?
Do I not have, better things I should do,
Than sit here and idle this poem for you?
The answer, my love, is whenever I write,
My heart is on fire and my soul it takes flight;
My senses are heightened, and my dreams become real,
And the beauty of you is so easy to feel.
So take up your pen, please give me your view,
As the world is much less when I don't hear from you,
Share with me now your passions and dreams
For writing is wonderf'ly more than it seems.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem