Please give me your attention
I’m not talking for my health
There has been some tension
And it’s threatening to make things go to hell
We may have wondrous nights
In which we talk till twilight
But the memory of the past still haunts us
The constant reminder of how things quickly fell apart
The beginning always repeats itself
With happiness and then a wry remark
Questions and doubts follow later
Delight extinguishing, leaving me in the dark
People ask me why I’m with you
Why I bother getting hurt
They tell me you don’t really listen
That you’re not worth it at all
Are you still with me?
Because the important part is coming up
I have come to my own conclusion
And it’s the one everyone wanted me to stay away from
No matter what happens
I’ll be patient and not doubt 'us' at all
And I’ll end this poetic cliché
With 'I will love you with all my soul and heart'
o, i really have give my attention to u! u sing freely and make the words alive!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It occurred to me while reading this that maybe writing poems is all about the past. Even if we are thinking about the future, we relly upon the past for all of our material. The other night the book No Future Without Forgiveness by Desmond Tutu was brought to my attention. I think your attitude would fit in nicely with his even though I have not yet read the book.