I tenderly exist yet nobody's trained me.
No one asked me to bloom; this “Manto” a Manto has never been.
People welcomed me, not just for the ecstasy of the moment.
They went down to their knees to worship me,
but I always wanted to look to the skies,
at a teacher, who with a stern glance would berate me.
Nobody went through the moves, got into the trouble
-they just showered me with honors-
since being on your knees and worship is easy,
being on your feet and accompany is not,
bowing your head is easy,
keeping it high is not.
I was looking for free people and I found addicts.
They placed their hopes on me,
a life's crumbling wall and so
it wasn't long before that we came to be
crushed under vanity's veil.
A poem I've translated from Greek