I understood the scarf tied around your head when I watched you tug at it. The scantily threaded scarf you could hardly trade almost giving way yet you were barely worn out from all that wearing.
I understood because I could see my reflection on the face of your scarf. Myself all worn and torn from exhaustion more than from age. Exhausted from your preferential treatment of scorn and judgement.
It shall be well with you, but only after I have spoken my mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem