The mirror that I always pass
I know is just a piece of glass
that holds a reflection I see.
Is that a just a reflection of me?
Or rather is it just the one
that hates the rain and loves the sun?
I must cover it with a blackened drape
so I can't see my earthly shape.
I must forget it is there all the while
to catch the frown or the smile.
For the imperfections that are mine
are really only an outward sign.
I should not depend on a piece of glass
to hold the truth to my impasse.
I'm a prisoner only in my mind
and I am trying hard to find
my way in this world that feels like home
besides my song and besides my poem.
'Mirror, mirror on the wall
who's the fairest of them all?
I know it certainly isn't me
for all you hold is vanity.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem