I saw a twenty first century man
who knew three or four or five girls
intimately well,
like a tribal chief;
but not all
at one time.
His heart was shattered
time and time again,
like mosaic
with little patches
that love brought to him.
Every time he loved
as if she was the only one
and yearned for the durability of stone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Perhaps he is in love with the love, an interesting poem.