it was a trifle, really,
and so easy to ignore.
yet it constantly occurred to me;
the tiniest of thorns.
a subtle condescension,
never meant to be conveyed;
tho there seemed no mean intention,
the perspective it betrayed:
was of yourself above me,
and myself somewhat below.
a difference slight in it's degree.
to love, a fatal blow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hello Moon....now I can return the honor This is a terse, finely, sculpted poem.....just enough words...economic One more, and it would topple, like Babel, dividing the populace into fallacies of what it was monument to...