What a bitter to-fro catastrophe
Spoken cleanly on the tongue
And yet lost all the same
When the silence draws in.
When we riddle we wonder,
When we’re frank we’re insane,
When honest we falter,
When coaxed we begin
To speak truths much less happy,
Because in spite of ourselves
We enjoy what we splinter
And treasure the blame.
We sit on cold nights
And prey for the warmth,
Yet were we to find it,
We’d always want more.
Such is the parallel
In our frivolous games,
Do not entreat me to comment,
I have nothing to say.
Blame one on the other,
Or find me a thing,
I like life when it’s crooked
Because then it’s a game.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Indeed opposite attracts! We thinks of something but we always do another, we married a love one yet we seek for the other one! Life is a vex, isn't it! A 10