Love is nothing,
But the deal of fools!
In which price is happiness,
And the prize overrules,
The life with pain,
And the eyes with rain,
The heart with hurt,
And the continuing chain,
Of plights unknown,
The sorrows unmoan.
The reason itself!
For the anxiety unshown.
The way present,
But the destiny unknown,
The destination absent!
But the hallucination unknown.
The anonymous feeling,
For the reason unknown!
The absurd healing,
For the ceason unknown.
Love is the search,
Of heaven in hell!
Love is the mirth,
Of lovers that fell!
Love is about,
Getting seven in the dice!
Love is nothing,
But only fool's paradise!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ok you hate love. Still your mother loves you. What do you say? Love is love. You may hate false-love. Pseudo love. If yes, I agree with you cent percent.