Words can flow like water
Then comes a blank page
When sentences have dried up
A writer may as well be blindfolded
Because it's hard to see anything to write
In the midst of a drought
Yearning to have at least a sip
From the fountain of ideas
Thirsty to write
Creatively dehydrated
In the desert of creative dead end
Completely lost
Suffering from an condition
Described as writers block.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem