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
 
                    