Reality is the prose of life
By her divine pen writ
We all within her novel sit
Bound with all her mortal strife
From out this prose’s languid plot
We characters will come to know
Of our own static lot
But great we’ll begin to grow
We’ll tare the page
We’ll cast it in the fire
We’ll write anew
With immortal poetry we’ll sire
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem