The picture is only of her face.
She floats on the page.
Her hair is more aura than earthly.
She is the most beautiful.
Daddy hired the famous one to draw her.
She died by a man’s knife.
The sketch, pencil on course paper,
Hangs hidden in a corner.
Her gaze is distant,
As if she knew.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem