She is lovely, but sometimes silent is she,
so fragile she looks with her golden hair
but always she is seen as fair
and about her sheer beauty most men agree.
Still she smiles with modesty
while her looks are beyond pretty and somewhat rare.
She is lovely, but sometimes silent is she,
so fragile she looks with her golden hair
that I a withering flower see
and men at her do continually stare
but of this she is totally unaware
as if she is from this world free,
she is lovely, but sometimes silent is she.
[Reference: “Roundel” by Dorothy Parker.]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem