You look at me,
as if I was the most beautiful of them all.
Me, who is just an ordinary girl.
You look at me, eyes that beg.
You touch me,
slowly, softly,
almost gently.
As if I were made of glass,
your most valuable asset,
which may go so easily,
so easily dashed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem