On a blank sheet,
a picture forms,
with only black ink,
a story is born.
A stroke here,
a blank spot left there,
It is magical,
how simply a story I share.
With a notebook my canvas,
a pen my brush.
With ink for my paint,
a story unfolds,
a masterpiece I create.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i think the first stanza is probably one of your best ever, i mean its really good, the next two just dont do it justice, but still i like it