Beyond Translation Poem by Mark Heathcote

Love - romance books abound,
but beyond translation, we hold each other,
place in each a bookmark and read cover to cover
from the centre out and back and forth again and again.
Love, the language may be foreign to begin with.
But I soon discovered a plot therein that has me at its core.
It's then as now I learn there is no beginning or end
without you who, unrelenting, I adore.

Our dust jackets may be worn and torn,
but there are no contents, chapters without the other.
And if never another page is read or written,
I am happy to have been a part of your ongoing story.
Where the bookmark has been rested
in a dreamlike state of should I? Or should I not read on?
From where the pages have been dog-eared,
showing something truly transparent
and meaningful without translation belonged.