The people who know you
Are the canvas on which
Your image, good or bad,
Is drawn rightly or not.
Mind! The image you built
Will die with the canvas
When it’s torn or worn out.
Yet, each one wants an image.
Don't we desire leaving
A child for our copy,
which will not last long though?
02.01.2009.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem