For Roland Barthes
the Muse's rapid-fire delivery of lines pregnant silence
the Muse lies on the floor my haiku dripping with blood
my haiku caged in 5-7-5 syllables scars on editor's mind
readers' heads stuck together my haiku is the cat that walks by himself
a wordless poem between the critic and me glass wall
the Muse addresses young poets via video stream: 'Death of the Author'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem