Look before reflecting, sirrah,
through window panes before a mirror,
for you must see the world before
your face, which it can well ignore.
Don’t try to be like Don Quixote,
who keeps on stumbling on himself,
enamored maybe by his goatee,
a hero only on a shelf.
Looking through a window pane
you can toy with those who try
to toy with you––while rain in Spain
falls on the pane you must keep dry.
11/14/03
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Whose goatee? Whose mirror? Which pane? What rain? Much love, Linda