My heart is a violin, 
All shiny a new.
The body is free from chips and scratches, 
It's f-holes are still perfectly shaped, 
It's back still shiny
and still hasn't met a shoulder rest that fits it's lower half perfectly, 
It's fine tuner and pegs have yet to be turned, 
It's chin rest has yet met a chin that fits it. 
My heart is a violin, 
in need to be tuned, 
in need for someone to rosin it's bow
and rub the horse hairs against the strings
composing a sweet melody.
My heart is a violin, 
in need of a Beethoven.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very nice poem. I like the analogy of the heart to a violin - my favorite musical instrument. Without the right player, there will be no beautiful music.