and bitter
which never was,
heaping hills
in other minds
marking out
judgements
of all kinds
when people
whom you
thought you knew
gather assumptions
and a few
unable to discern
the real you
then you yellow
your brown days
with a bronze border
and create a world
without deceit
juggling words
in sober observation
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem