How is a poem born?
No inspiration at all.
Neither sparks nor light — it is dark.
She is in the inspiration of the wing.

A thought will touch him on the air
A barely audible wave will send
The words fit snugly
Poems in verses will add up.

No, there is no, but as it comes,
Turn the Whirlwind.
Everything that is weak will become strong
From the strong he will make the weak.