i have a stone. I make sparks.
And the knife gets sharper
and it even shines against
the sun.
everyday, i view the knife.
i have learned to love it.
I have nobody to stab.
I just like the art of honing
a knife. Its sharpness has
no use for me. It is just
having it and not using it
to do something bad.
And i tell you, this is art.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I believe so...just like us clicking the computer keys to hone poetic expressions is an art too! Wise though brother!