Words are written, words are read,
They linger on, even when unsaid.
They are crafted with care, weighed with thought,
In the depths of meaning, they are sought.
Words are sweet, they laugh and play,
They mend the heart and light the way.
They rise with hope, refined and bright,
A gentle touch, a shining light.
But words can sting, they can divide,
A careless tongue can wound inside.
They argue, shatter, twist and fight,
Yet in their power lies the light.
For words don't tire, and words don't die,
They soar in hearts, they reach the sky.
Treat them well, respect their grace,
In every heart, give them a place.
Choose them wisely, give them wings,
Let them spread joy, where love springs.
For words are treasures, deep and vast,
A timeless gift, meant to last.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem