Throughout it I have been,
for reasons quite unknown
drawn to the good ones,
meaning those who prayed,
and stayed at home, at night,
and for the dances, and fetes,
how many times I missed the chance
to get the flashy ones, oh yeah,
the extroverted boobs and,
of course the fashion dresses,
and jeans, lasciviously correct,
I almost cried at times because,
and thought that once this life,
and all the chances in it, were over
I would regret my own timidity,
for all eternity, no matter, flesh
and other structures, they may
be weak and totally inept.
For heretofore unknown and
undue reasons, I always did
drift into ordinary clearings,
where simple beauties did,
with homely features dwell,
but I have found that over time
things do not change for me.
Perhaps my home is where
the heart of hearts resides.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beauty is only artificial Appearances are superficial The beauty that cannot be seen Is in the eye of the beholder Good poem Herbet, I wish more men felt that way!