In the beginning was the love.
It oozed itself around him,
Gradually became his glove.
Warmth became addictive.
Love left for easier hands.
The glove stayed on for summer-
The sweat! that he got into
For fear a misplaced glove would mean
A cold and loveless winter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am reminded somehow of Curly from 'Of mice and Men' by John Stienbeck.