You know, love is tough,
And so I think, as well:
Never was so rough,
Knitted just like hell.
Your points of view are strange,
Of all love has in concept;
Unlike all, they’re out of range!
Onboard, girl, words aren’t kept
Unlike your thoughts, they’re strange,
To love you needn’t be adept.
Oh, God, what am I in?
For this is worse than any Sin!
Debate I with myself alone,
Everlastingly, who will be blessed?
So, who will sit on your love’s throne?
Please, none. And girl, we know: no more, no less.
Ah, “who will be that lucky one? ”
I know no one under the sun;
Remember, you are no-one’s hon.
(Winter 2004-2005.)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem