The envious moon,
Pock marked and scarred,
Warbles a lonesome tune,
To seas reflecting a face so marred.
Helpless to discover the beauty within,
Gazes at the earth and dreams,
Of a mask not cause for chagrin,
And be filled with meadows, oceans and streams.
Never to know we look up in awe,
At the simple beauty of our celestial brother,
And in our gaze we see no flaw,
Just the pure beauty within another.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem