You seem to like my moves,
In the rare instant lies my very moves.
To lie is harsh, harsher still,
For they wonder far on the other side,
Reaching into the gladness, as fine as sand.
You seem to know my face very well,
Yet I do not know your custom, your dignified approach.
The hazards of existence number too many
Yesterday was a brighter day,
And my moves be saved, all in hope of something new.
I can not dare it, nor speak it,
In this fashion is the gladness I have found.
My moves are expected to affect the sighted people
And you too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem