With every thought, I do enchant
The helpless readers (now paralyzed) .
My words, the subtle intoxicant
That leaves them mesmerized.
With quill in hand
And rhyme "to boot, "
I have the needed contraband...
To tempt with "verse" (forbidden-fruit)
These prisoners trapped in Never Land.
(1992)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem