DESIRE Poem by Nachoem M. Wijnberg

I wished my only problem was your not wanting to see how I desire you,
it's not a pretty sight, if I had a choice I wouldn't want to look either.

Everywhere I stop I lay down my desire, my eyes too tired to see who's standing there.
Is that what I call a desire? I just want to learn how to do something.

Get changed, I mean, get undressed,
you are the only one who is left, everything around you is empty, not because you desire someone.

Turn around, turn around, turn around,
I see you - if I say I see you, you can come out.

Ghalib complains that you're not doing your work,
which he thought was his due, if others get it why shouldn't he?

I have heard that less desire helps, but wouldn't more desire save me from this,
the way someone saves the life of someone he doesn't want to talk to?

No one knows what desire is until Ghalib says something about it,
he reads the history of the world and when he's finished he says what he lacks.