my muse is howling loud
written words are disappearing
into the basket thrown
I am leaving myths for gods,
let them create it without me
deformed thoughts
today no longer the same,
are searching for one direction
...
similar to the echo,
together let us repeat
what will be given
even if it's just for a moment
only for us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
O yes! Very beautiful poem. I like it special!