You’ll never write it,
Because it was but you are
It came and went, like the rain,
It was no more, but still is
It is and was your splendid desire,
A manifesto of perfection
It unspoken, spoke the best,
Sung the finest beat
You’ll never write it
So, you think you’re a poet,
A miracle who tells the subtle
You think you are the clean slate and more,
That can absorb the new
You’ll never write,
It is no more
But yet it will and shall always be,
The thing
You’ll never write it,
Because you try
So hard and so fervent,
At your marvel goal
You down and down that last shot of rum,
As if you can arrive
But you’ll never arrive, you never will,
Because you still try
You used English and then tried dervish,
Dancing to tuneless words
You read Watts and the old Indian man,
Wore them like beards
But you’ll never write it,
Because you never can;
You can dance you can sing,
But you’ll never write it
You will search you will plead,
You will find but you will bleed
For every answer is another desire,
That the holy chant on another bead
You come and ask for love and magic,
For you are weary and you are tired
You take your pencil and you take your sheet,
But never write it, it is no need
Try and try,
But you will never,
You can never,
By the gods and angels of the seven seas,
By Shiva, Brahma and Vishnu’s deeds,
You will never write it,
You will never need
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem