Bedizened with an ethereal glory,
desired by man and God alike,
Walking among the tombstones,
lost in a cloudy world of thought.
She told herself, "Beauty is a lie",
for why else should we be wrapped,
in skin from head to toe?
She seemed a little worried,
when a gust broke her trance.
She stopped and looked for something,
something she knew was gone,
and then she walked again,
and walked forever more,
till men and gods perished
and none called her beautiful again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem