He finds them pretty,
Whose beauty the sun shows.
Those who leave rainbows settling on their faces,
He's afraid,he can't tell which colour to choose.
He loves beauty that is skin deep.
Ones that nearly touch the bone,
He finds them venomous,
Cobras shedding their skin.
He calls them suspect
Who borrow it from other lands
"Cute girls crown their own glory."
He thinks he is right, he may be wrong.
He has no other eye,
No other way to look.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem