There was an inkstand on the desk in a poet's room. Some strange sounds came out of the bottle. "How amazing! Anything can come out of that inkstand."

The inkstand was proud of herself when she heard that. "Yes, I am unbelievable." The inkstand told this to a feather pen and other writing materials. "Sometimes, even I am amazed¹ by what comes out of me. One drop of me is enough to fill half a piece of paper."

The inkstand had no idea what was inside of her. But she thought she had everything. "Don't you think about yourself at all? If you had a chance to think abort² who you really are, you would have found out that the only thing that you can do is drop ink."

The feather pen said that he was the one who wrote on the paper. The inkstand and the feather pen had an argument. "You idiot³, the poet can write his poems only because of me." The feather pen said that the only thing the inkstand can do is give him ink. They kept arguing.

"Inkstand! You don't know anything. People cannot write without a pen." "Without me, you are just a shabby⁴ little bird feather." The feather pen laughed at the inkstand.

At that moment, the poet came back from a concert. He opened the inkstand to write a poem. He started to write about the fantastic violin performance of that night. "The sound of the violin was just magnificent⁵. But people think it is easy to play the violin."

The poet had a different opinion from those of other people. He wrote that the wonderful violin performance was because of the player's ability. Neither the inkstand nor the feather pen could recognize that their abilities were all precious⁶ until then. They are a gift from God.