100 men who would just have to look,
100 men who would in games have mistook
100 men that I’d make smile but disappoint
100 men who’d never get to my private point
Because I don’t care what smiles or jive you bring
Of life I’ve learned a many thing
And if I could single one thing out
It’s how I hate a lovers mouth.
Such tongues with charms and vociferous lies
Don’t go down in my books for dizzy worthy cries,
But stand as almost hateful in their conquest
And I cry out, “for this, for this, I gave my best? ! ”
My best, my best what does that be? ?
A trifle try at romance, only to find jealousy.
I want to be, want to be just a smile for you to meet.
Not a flower to be plucked and plunged down unseen.
very nice.'not a flower to be plucked'...........liked it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh you seem to be angry!