i walk alone through these brimming hallways
they spill over with friends and comrades
as i weave through them all, my head is held high,
but make no mistake, i am not proud.
what pride is there in being a loner?
how could you be proud of yourself
for the cocoon of solitude
youve woven around yourself?
no, my head is high so no one can see
the envy emanating from my eyes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem