At least five to seven times
I am washing my face,
Look, still, I am not looking afresh.
I told myself how is it dear,
You are coming before the mirror
And making the mirror clean
But the face remains un-shine.
So much labor for a mere face!
Really wonderful to think dear,
And you are smiling there.
I change friends, change dresses,
But it is there in its place the I.
The reasons not the mirror
Not my face but the very mistakes
I have done not telling who am I.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful philosophical poem so nicely executed. Sorrow, mistake and fear do not allow to reflect the face clear. Wonderful imaginary. Thank you sir.10