Definitions are dangerous—
sinuous loops within loops,
mulligan soups,
tenuous.
Take the word love.
Look it up in your dictionary;
But be wary:
for the meaning of
this short but laden word
is slippery as oil,
like wet soil,
elusive as a bird.
Other tongues specify:
Eros or agape,
but in English we have only one syllabe to say,
one syllable to try
to express the word of ages,
the utterance of all time,
the feeling sublime,
the subject of sages.
Webster’s, the source of exaction,
claims it’s a strong, tender affection
or a sexual attraction,
or deep devotion.
But then what constitutes
devotion; and can’t I feel attraction
without feeling affection?
The tree of love has many roots.
Will a new word do,
or a million, or two?
For such a feeling, false or true,
I’d like clarification; would you?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem