I do like things when at a distance.
A glimpse of them, when my eye catches,
Invests them with a charm and blinks,
Seems as if someone is willfully lying,
Or wants to rid of something;
Of something he is weary of or perhaps,
Of something he has nothing to do with.
I like the moon and do admire its beauty.
When I stare and stare, its facial stains appear!
Why do I like things only when at a distance?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem