What people think you and reality
Sometimes coincide and sometimes differ
In substance, proportion, quality and quantity
But they can't define you, sir.
What opinion people hold is their privilege
Which you may accept or reject
In private or in public because its message
Offers for the present and the future no useful prospect.
What platitudes toxic tongues unleash
Rightly belongs to a dustbin
Where gibberish hobnobs with rubbish
Together with tongues' life of sin.
What effort tongue waggers make
To tarnish your name
Turns out to be a mistake
Which isn't worth any sane claim.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem