Everybody
moves forward
from
girlhood
when
all
the boys
were
conquests-in-waiting
and
all
the girls
were
rivals
or simply
dull and dumb.
Now
all
these
years later
the youth
has left
your face
and all
the boys
have turned
into
unhappy
fat old men
but
you
still think
all
the girls
are rivals
and
the boys
fall
at your
feet
Somebody
ought
to tell
you
that
you're
wrong
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem