The muse screams, silent, in me,
Behind locked doors,
Searching, climbing up and down,
A prisoner in a tower.
Room with a view.
If she cranes her neck just so
She can see freedom
Slipping over the hill.
And I scream, silent, in her,
On the outside looking in,
Gazing in wonder
But no understanding, .
My prisoner, and I am hers,
Locked in frustration.
Am I right to keep her,
Will she let me go?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem