This is a gift
given to few
to lift a ballpoint pen
and contruct, compose and measure words
although he possess
no long legs
to take the longest strides
yet, he moves on and on
digging shapes and hopes
throughout his thought
his striength is great
without a bite of bread
you defeat the might
you're not afraid
to be faced with a sword
so write right now
don't shy away
from the gleam of truth
and what is right
should be made right
and you'll be alright.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem