Pages turn, side by side,
In the book of thoughts we hide.
One's an onion, sharp and keen,
The other, opinion, felt, unseen.
Both have layers, one by one,
A story told, before it's done.
Peel them back, a sting may start,
But deeper truth - within the heart.
So much in common, plain to see,
Two pages in life's mystery.
Each with substance, adding more,
To what we think, and what we store.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem