Looking carefully at a piece of wood
Feel the sturdiness and the strength it holds
Seeing the life imprisoned inside
Just waiting to be freed by the artist’s hands
Every stroke of the chisel and its every wound,
Will be part of the wood until it is formed.
The fruit of labor of the calloused hands
It won’t even leave a single scar.
Behold the sight before your eyes
So smooth, so real and so much alive.
A master piece, there is no doubt.
Brought to life by the passion of an artist’s heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem