Not knowing is the worst torture,
Or is it worse when I do,
It seems there are no right answers,
When I am dealing with you,
You're happy, I guess that's what matters,
Or should I prefer that you weren't,
For all the talking and pleading,
Not a single lesson was learnt,
For all of the earthly possessions,
For all of the charm and the wit,
Perchance, I am helpless and hopeless,
Like a glove, that seems to fit,
Nothing is found to be good enough,
Nothing, our problems, solve,
And, for all that was given,
Did apathy from love evolve?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem