Hati
The heart. The most complex and mysterious object that dwells and lingers inside us. A godsend. A curse. Sometimes both. Sometimes neither. It can grow and it can fade with or without our consent. It has a life and mind of its own. It doesn’t always comply with our intention. It doesn’t calculate and succumb to reason. It can ignore rationale if it chooses to. And that habitually invites conflict. And if conflict transpires we can always feel the ache inside. Always. We feel it at the exact place where it inhibits. Strange. Stranger yet, sometimes it goes off to someone else and left you hollowed and dumbfounded. Sometimes it comes back to you and sometimes it stays. And sometimes it stays there for good. Then you’ll be at the mercy of those who keep it. Then you fall. In love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Speaking loudly about the heart from heart. A job well done. You explain much in the few lines of this poem. Thanks for sharing.