i guess
love is more of
sort of a
question
so while young
you better ask it
find it until you find your skin
with a lot of furrows
and regrets creeping on
your marrow
and then sigh, sigh, sigh
love indeed is the answer
old age accepts it with
resignation
i guess it is sort of
loneliness accepts love
whatever
be it a question or an answer
it does not matter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem