I know, I am less than the words
You uttered in praise of me but
Surely I know, I am more than
The idea of me you conceived
In your head, may be you are
A sycophant or hypocrite that
Does not, at all, bother me
I concern not what I am really
But it is definitely a cause of worry
If I pose for what I am not.
To tell lies to this world is nothing new
Great sages and saints took this route
Sometimes to save their life
Sometimes to hit their business
But your life is not a life
As no pain is more unbearable
Than the one you inflict upon
When you tell lies to yourself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem