In the vast expanse of life's design,
We underestimate the weight of virtue.
Held aloft in words—but lost in action,
We praise what we refuse to practice.
Hypocrites of the truths we claim to hold,
We chase illusions, ignoring what's real.
The beauty of morals—dressed in gold—
Blinds us to the rot beneath the sheen.
Deception cloaked in elegance,
Decay wrapped in noble speech.
We yearn for a system founded on values.
Yet erode its roots with our neglect.
We celebrate the surface of integrity.
But mock its substance in secret.
Pointing fingers at others to shield our shame,
Forgetting the mirror stands before us.
So, what of you—and what of me?
Are we not architects of the same hypocrisy?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem