A long time ago, while I wrote poetry
My hand involuntarily would create grief and pain.
Through all my verses, through my stanzas,
Wings of solitude had taken place.
So I threw the pen away one day;
I was so very tired of composing sadness.
And started the journey, I the curious poet,
In search of my inspiring lyrical happiness.
......
A long time ago, while I wrote poetry
My hand involuntarily would create grief and pain.
Through all my verses, through my stanzas,
Wings of solitude had taken place.
So I threw the pen away one day;
I was so very tired of composing sadness.
And started the journey, I the curious poet,
In search of my inspiring lyrical happiness.
......