When I write to you I forget words I forget I am a poet Once again
Like a farmer Who wishes to plough The whole land But doesn’t Even an acre Who doesn’t finish Sowing seeds Even in a cent Like the many seeds That don’t sprout
Dear source of my happiness
When I write to you I fail More miserably Than that farmer
Dear source of my happiness
When I write to you I require The ink of a thousand seas But my seeds of blue Fall astray Unsow-able Even in a single page
How many of them will sprout
See Even my greeting In this poem “The source of my happiness” Is stolen From My prayers in childhood To the Holy mother