If you are counting on my appearance,
To depict my disposition to others...
This I can understand.
Since you perceive me to be in a box to fit.
And your opinions of me given to others conflict.
I can tell when I am introduced to them,
They are confused by my humor...
With a mix of seriousness that is unexpected,
When they are left less to comprehend...
Who it is they have never fact to face met.
'You are not who I expected at all.'
Who did you expect?
'Someone I was told you would be I'd meet.'
That's unfortunate.
Because no one prepared me to meet you.
'That's not unfortunate at all.
I am glad they are not here and we met.
Let us keep this to ourselves.
And one day together...
We will witness their regrets.'
Yes.
I love it.
Let us keep this to ourselves.
'Yes.
Let's.
I love it too,
Knowing less meddling they will do.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem