This is who I am.
A human being who stretches his arm, 
Not a course to any harm, 
But instead help or raise the alarm.
A pen is my firearm, 
And the words my charm.
Should I be invaded by a swarm, 
Those two rest firmly in my forearm.
When things become lukewarm, 
and sometimes get off my palm, 
Still, this is who I am.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                     
                
eternal enigma revisited in an innovative way.fine