he pretends
to read her poetry;
pretends he's never read the lines
she leaves there on his bedstand
with the water that she brings him.
and he pretends
she doesn't matter;
nothing matters anyway.
denies them both, through his denials,
their earthly share of paradise.
pretends he does her
greater favor,
pretends a martyr's privelege,
suffering a loss before appreciating
further gains.
and he pretends
he has no heart,
pretends it doesn't cower there
inside of him, afraid to venture out
into the midnight air.
pretends no stars are in the sky;
pretends there's nothing there to see
and nothing living in his soul,
nor such as love
or poetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
But when i say this poem is a gem, I am not pretending! superb! Preets