I only understood that I am not a verse master,
no teacher of letters
Let him know how to find his desires.
I don’t know how I can write
what sometimes I do not understand myself.
I don’t know about rhymes,
no syllable counter
so that a writing is beautiful.
I don’t know about poetry its secrets.
I am not a poet in my silhouette,
troubadour…
I just want to be of my dreams.
Own poem.
Source of the image:
http://cuentosmagicosblog.blogspot.com/2014/05/algunas-poesias-de-francisco-de-quevedo.html?m=1