Inside a letter housed in a word
Is an inner ink, going on a second;
Offering pink notice that turns red.
We read a picture of knowledge
And learn a new thought too vital
And delicious that it is eaten.
Inside one word, we heal a few phrases,
More like a power that freezes
And despises, forming clues of words.
These are weird tales for the numerous
Haters of words. Inside the letter is a word.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem