There's a pleasure watching ink dry
Just that moment when, if you touch,
The words blot on the page
And the feeling behind the words
Stains your fingertips
Someone who reads the lines
Gets lost, trying to interpret
What looks like the black venom
Of a crushed bee
On the other hand
The poet's smudge
Is a riddle bringing
The pleasure of secrets
Only to them
So learning the words
Behind smiles
Is a good pleasure
But more so when they're
From someone who's written them
Somewhere secret on their body
Sharing those words
Feels really good
Maybe one day
Beautiful and elegant. Drying ink on the paper captures the essence of poem slowly forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sharing those words Feels really good Maybe one day really good poem penned; I feel enjoyable this piece