My body look not upon, but my soul,
Consider the face behind the mask,
With the touch of inner Braille,
Perceiving my whole being through yourself.
Touch me not through my skin,
But with your heart,
For only in the gentleness of love.
That my inner self proves,

Of me the mask is but a minor component.
Nor should you recognize me out of charity:
But adversity can be a sort of refinement,
Springing exceptional acumen to minority.
But convey essentially for yourself, your understanding
Providing an opportunity to a better-off, wider outlook,
An entrance to a personality much like you
But fired by the fate that he must cleave to.