Humility is like
a most sensitive plant.
Blow a breath on it, and
it swiftly droops its head.
Touch it and it withers away.
Humility is so sensitive that
it cannot be exhibited in public.
Humility consists in not thinking of
itself at all. If it ever speaks of itself,
it disappears for ever like a vanishing dream.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem