The stage of life is strewn with dust
the curtain faded now
the boards worn down by many feet
as actors take their bows
The audience thrills to the glow
of satin capes and robes
the glitter and the powdered masks
enhanced by hidden strobes
Who breathes beneath this gilded front
and suffers sweat and strain
who bears with agony the paint
that clogs the skin and brain
What is a life, what is a lie
who knows and who can tell
if on the stage of life we all
hide in an actor's shells?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a true reflection on life Lillia, yet another deep and wonderful piece!