Not that long ago, she was so sure
that affection and love were entitlements,
promised and secure,
sort of a social security of the heart.
And then she became cynical about romance,
like so many before her;
when Pure Love never asked her to dance
She learned to dance alone.
The affection of another human being
is complex and sometimes has to be earned,
so I won’t give in to bitterness, she concluded,
and will practice the lessons I’ve learned.
Love me; I demand it, she used to say,
but human feelings resist the imperative.
So she resolved to wait for eternity or a for a day,
for joy that is a gift, not a given.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The words of a sage conveyed with the eloquence of a poet. S :)