I sit and wish to write a poem
That has not been written yet,
Meanwhile a storm rises
And gets amok in the chest
A boat of words I set ready
To sail over the risen sea
Busy is the mind
And somber is the mood
With a paper in hand
And pen in the mouth
I go straight to another kingdom
To another wonderful place
There I see promises I gave
But have not kept those till date
Meanwhile a sense of guilt rises
And runs swift among the veins
I keep the eyes open
And set the gaze fixed
I am there, but here I feel also
And clearly see the debt I took
That has till date remain unpaid
This time no one but I alone rise
And cut the lines completed
Thus the poem I wish to write
That has not been written yet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem