Life is a polite woman.
I have always told you that in class.
I delight in the politeness of a woman.
Outside the class.
When i fall in love, i keep it
to myself. There is no courage for
me to say it. I keep my own joys.
You are a polite woman.
I named you my own Life.
The class do not know that.
I keep it upon myself as a
lovely burden. I keep sorrows too.
Secretly, like
a divine burden, an un-confessed
sin.
Sometimes, i have not told you
before you left, i also mumble upon
myself, without any wish
that i may understand what i
try to hide,
completely. Soon i forget and then
I am happy again.
That is what life is all about.
I am polite too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem