We utt’r black words from our
tired-strick’n pens, lips and hearts,
trying to tune our coarse voice from our lungs
to fit our audience’s ears.
We utt’r white words from our
joy-strick’d pens, lips and hearts,
trying to fit ourselves in the midst of pens
but all in all is black and white.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem