He wore his arrogance as if it were a coat,
with pockets hiding confidence within,
I could not tell if all of it was just veneer,
Potomkin's vain façade, lit from behind.
She told me though, as she would be
the one to see through shades of gray,
a wife's perogative, a cause to take her charms
and fragrances of freedom to my lonely bed.
Soon it behooved the two of us to reach
for arrogance, embrace with open arms
the freedom of a kindness from the gods,
who'd sent him off into the world, the fellow Kane.
We'll leave the gawkers pressing noses to the pane.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem