I have nothing but my words,
no music do I play.
My joy it seems must be seen,
or felt in other ways.
The hardest part is all outside,
the inner only letters.
No hues to view to please the eyes,
black and white no better.
Tears, joy and sometimes fear,
upon a paper stage.
Lined up from the front to rear,
on every single page.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
To please the eyes. Thanks for sharing.