Mirrors avoid my face
even noticing I´ve never loved it.
Passing through its static place,
proudness overlaps vanity.
If it were a boat, that was not a wharf
Even being a thing, I won´t be desire
´cause in me, in me not aim along.
By the woods of loneliness,
I get ride of mortal crowd
and dreaming...
comes to a new falling dawn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem