Don't trust the glass—it only sees
The surface of your mysteries.
It shows the skin, the shape, the face,
But not your soul, your quiet grace.
It cannot catch your midnight sighs,
Or how your dreams drift through closed eyes.
It misses how your laughter glows,
Or how your heart in silence grows.
It doesn't know the way you care,
The love you give, the strength you bear.
It cannot hold the tears you hide,
Or trace the storms you've walked inside.
So if the mirror speaks of worth,
Remember all it fails to birth.
Your beauty lives in things unseen—
In every truth that lies between.
Look deeper still, beyond the frame,
And call yourself by your true name.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem