I write; the ink flows onto the page, decorating it with black swirls
My hand rubs raw against the page, skin chafing so badly it's like sunburn
A trickle of dark red ink flows from my hand, mixing with the black writing on the page
I have put my blood into this work
The sun beats down hotly on my back, making me perspire
I wipe the sweat off my brow and continue working, my hand resting against the page
I have put my sweat into this work
My eyes hurt, and all the inky characters and letters are swimming
The pain gets worse as I rub my eyes, trying only to ease the pressure
A single tear falls down my face and onto the page I am writing on
I have put my tears into this work
My whole life is wrapped up in a single sheet of paper, my blood, sweat, and tears making themselves present
I fold my life into a boat and send it flaming down the river
I stand up and look across the river; all I see are trees
My old life is gone, burned to ashes
It's time I start anew
Ink flows on to the page decorating life again and again. Fantastic sharing definitely.10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'I write; the ink flows onto the page, decorating it with black swirls' from the first line this poem was masterful, each line building into wonderfully contained stanzas, each finishing with blood, sweat, and tears put into the work, our paper life, until the turn of the last stanza, life as a paper boat on a river, floating away the old life gone, 'burned to ashes', the resolution to start life anew in the last line was a message of hope and regeneration.10+++