It's like this...
If people knew happiness.
Felt to feel it.
And it known to exist.
Not a nose would they have,
Cemented and stuck...
Up in someone else's business.
To then claim to be available,
For options to explore.
With a leaving routines behind.
But...
Only if it has been decided,
That a happiness one finds...
Is noticeable to be approved,
By those also routinely nosey.
Knowing they will not be,
Left alone...
Being kept happy at it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem