The Duchess is gushing, saying - How are you? -
We must meet again! afterwards claiming she’ll
not meet with them as her station disallows this
I don’t get a word in, raise my hand for a turn to
speak when her impatience allows; why a false
bonhomie - why ersatz overwhelming delight?
She doesn’t care much, why not be kind while
keeping distance dignified; I’m resigned, such
is the Duchess, believing her thoughts secret
But through telepathy people subliminally grasp
the feelings behind deeds - she complains they
are nasty when she meets them again, after her
Having been so friendly it does not make sense;
yet she lost her jovial mask when security was
tardy letting us in - revealing her true feelings
In screaming at him - the lowest social hierarchy
deserving of MORE respect than the rest, called
him spiteful though he obeyed rules; her erratic
Irrational behaviour won't endear her to anyone -
I dared to say rashly: Suspecting people of spite
creates telepathic expectation to be fulfilled by
Them - she told me furiously to back off, I realise
we use similar terms to mean different things, I
conclude she cannot understand people being
Offended at her working so hard on appearing
friendly, not understanding that only by being
open and honest can we give and receive
Real friendship and love
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem