Her name is love.
I have never seen her,
I have never met her,
Neither have I spoken to her,
Nor touched her.
I have head of her fame,
Her works and portraits,
Are painted with beauty.
A phantom and a mystery;
She indeed is priceless.
Like the elephant's fable,
She is called: Eros, Agape
Philos and more;
Which speak of how,
She is felt by all.
A lack of her presence,
Brings dismal emptiness.
A misuse of her,
Brings unimaginable pain.
Her name is love.
I will see her,
I will meet her,
I will speak to her,
And certainly touch her.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem