We make, make up for our life
a huge people-packed wall.
Not even the tall can reach over.
When a stone has fallen outwards,
making way for a gap as it goes,
whoever chanced to see out
has spoken of la vie en rose.
Meanwhile he too is seen through
and there is no place for feeling distraught.
A secret is now the only life he knows,
being himself through and through is his lot.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem