So hard

    Does not fall on a common laughter in the meadow. 
     Not tremble anger of March, because I 
     I do not open the lid to my box of words gets. 
     The silent woman, writing the words of large interpreter. 
     I speak six languages​​, seven exclaim. 
     So hard it is to just acknowledge their love, 
     rather the feeling sweep under the carpet. 
     I can not pretend it does not have a sense of 
     exist. I can lie to myself fluently.