he stands there
with a pointing finger
telling you that your
skirt is too short
and your legs are
too long,
whatever, he thinks
that you are a mistake of
this universe
and that God perhaps
lost attention
when nature tried to
give you shape
be confident
shy away from people like them
turn inward
find that light inside the
secret place of your heart
and listen:
did it not tell you that you are the precious
child of the universe
that you are no less than the moon and the stars
and the trees
and that by all means you have
the right to be here?
desiderata, right?
recall, and then look straight at that
magnified critique
don't say anything
dismiss him as nothing
but a mistake of
the magician's illusion
he does not exist
it is only you
and nothing else
who really matters
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem