What I am not, to hear these words,
Would turn anyone aside;
Made less like an elven treasure,
Than some gentle Goliath.
Of sterner stuff, most are found,
Though human words could lie,
Or conspiracies, conspire
The half truth, to deny.
But what I'd really want to say,
Could my words hold any sway,
Is to look deeper than the skin,
For the outside is a fake.
A nut shell is only bark,
An orchid's not vanilla,
The soul is just a vapor
Curling up a vine.
A cow's not cheese,
A hen's not quiche;
And until it dies,
A grape's not wine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem