Should I regret
Having lived my life
For a mistake?
I thought I might be a writer
Others would want to read
I am not
And most probably will never be-
Sometimes I think this is alright
I did what I needed to do with my life
I wrote and learned much
And enjoyed most of it
But there are times
Like now
When the mistake hurts
When the word failure is not a painless word
There are times I think
I should have done some small ordinary thing
And made an ordinary good and happy life
Instead of writing and writing
With no real response no answer
Perhaps my father was right
A simple grade-school or high- school teacher
No great ambition no sad failure
Instead of a poor old babbler babbling still
And waiting for Eureka from somewhere out there
Which does not want to know
I exist
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
If babbling is what you do, Then long live babbling, With all its B's, To write poetry As good as yours, Is not a banality Or waste of time, Not to have written Would have been, The real " crime"