I heard the poets
How they spoke
“Don’t leave me, ” they said—
“We’re going home now.”
And I, like a fool, said the same
I spent time and again
Giving my premise of love
Throwing “I love you’s”
Wearing love like a gaudy shirt
And I went on
Comparing her to the moon
To a breeze, or a stream of water
To a blade of grass
Or to the night
Too late I realized
She was nothing like the moon
And very much unlike the wind
A blade of a grass is far too common
And the night has always remained
Too late I realized that—
Unlike the night, she would not hang about
Too late I realized—
How doubtful it was that I’d miss a blade of grass
And I went on
Listening to the poets
“My love, ” they would declare
And I would say the same
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This made me smile Elvis, how witty and wise well done Best Wishes Lynda xx