Oh to converse with a page
Should you feel the need to set free rage
Not judged nor claimed, let's call it blank
You can tell it lies or you can speak your shame
It'll speak in measures, carry so much weight
Or it's light as a feather with nothing to say
Let it burn or be framed
Know it heard what you say
Oh to converse with a page
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hmm... I like the idea- and in fact I've had 'conversations with the page', as you so beautifully put it, but I think that you could've executed it better. No offense intended, but it seems repetitive and simple. If you expand upon it, maybe with a thesaurus in hand, I'll rate it a ten for sure!