Ugly, she says she is -
not as pretty as this or that...
Happy, she says she is...
in all her ugly and fat...
If she is what she is -
and ugly is all she owns -
and life is just a quiz -
down to her ugly bones -
Then why does happiness -
rally through her tones?
For if I were this - or if I were that -
a mountain lion - or Cheshire cat -
Gargoyle of stone -
or angel of bronze -
deathly sword honed -
imp that devil spawns -
Then where does beauty lie?
If not deep inside?
Where one is free of sin -
to cause happiness within?
Ugly is ugly - only inside.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem