Elegance was her name,
and she was hard to tame,
hers was the mark of perfection,
only the imperfect eye would see,
and as fate would have it,
even the prince had to have this..rare elusive scent;
this..invisible touch of excitement,
that those of yore,
could only dream about,
because to chase after elegance,
was to dance amidst farce and tragedy,
to be perfect in imperfection,
a truly great challenge,
for one who desired to be on the scripts of history,
for all the right reasons.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem