Love is a mannequin dressed in rags,
Desire’s the streetcar, that left you in drag;
Time is ephemeral and can't be touched;
Distance is as far as the eye can see,
And any farther's something we never reach.
Emotions are phoney, though we love them so much;
Sadness and jealousy, pride and elation:
Blaming the invisible's just a crutch-
Only anger's real; the rest, decoration.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem