I (Martina)

Someone’s said that girls envy my beauty,
that all boys are charmed by my prettiness.
But I really don’t think I am pretty.
I’m like scarecrow from poppy-fields by lanes.

I don’t need to be shown in big splendour
and let people know what’s inside of me.
Although my art demonstrates big power,
most people do not notice or see me.

I can’t guess, once there’ll come long night that seems
to come when on sky there’ll be no young-moon.
Long night will relieve me of all bad dreams.
But I can’t guess if it can happen soon.

I can’t guess of the beauty in my case.
Sometimes very dangerous it can be.
I can’t guess, I have got a givenness,
how it amazes people around me.

I’m just slowly integrating into
among the ten, twenty, thirty people
who open doors of their souls for me too.
But in fact, for me it’s not so simple.

I hand out to crowd true clevernesses
understandable by no other man.
My tender face fights with difficulties
and they are really very hard somewhen.

Once someone has said that my tenderness
would never end under you, sad, crying.
I’ll be followed by beauty and kindness.
These two should help me when I’ll be losing.

I don’t think that I’m pushed away from you.
Someone’s said you don’t want it to be so.
I know, I’m sure I am different than you,
my spontaneity still has to grow.

No one can speak to me so easily
and same it is with getting close to me.
It would get right in those few years, surely.
I must be like people want to have me.

I’m unknown, alone, but I’m sure one’s true,
that everything stands and falls on details.
Ourselves, we have to help dreams come true,
cause real life is not like from fairy-tales.