All fledgling poetry starts in the stoic hearts nest
Even the cuckoo has to find its layer...
Somewhere near to ostracize the rest:
In order to “Carpe diem” and be the Purveyor...
Over all he has cruelly dispossessed:
But often; like the magpie, he’s an empty naysayer.
That honestly nobody wants to ingest...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem