She is the book, the page, a single word,
often judged by what's on the outside.
Sometimes, her meanings blurred,
often missing the bright side.
First impressions are often wrong.
People don't understand her song.
Writings been her passion so long.
Her release has never been wrong.
A fleeting whisper,
One, strong note.
The story keeper.
Perfect words wrote.
A world of sanity
Held by papers and lines
never doubt her ability!
its her, her story defines.
Living in written worlds
the story beginning,
the plot unfurls.
Writings who she is, master of disguise.
The story of her ecstasy, never dies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem