You wore your beauty
as if it had nothing to do with you
innocent of
its effect
(a mere irrelevance)
it belonged to others
rather than
to you
who
startled
(& embarrassed)
by compliments
& acknowledgements
tried to flee your self
& hide in an awkwardness
that was beautiful
in itself.
Your real beauty
lay in the fact
that it was hidden
& unknown to you
could only be
accessed by others
for you
it did not exist
you
too busy being you
to notice it.
One may as well
have thanked the sky
for being the sky
or praised a star
for being a star
or being enamoured of the rain
for being the rain
you could not be
explained
the wonder of you
was
that you
just were.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem