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
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