You ask me, what is
The glue of lovers so young?
I say, it is this-
A Harshly arched hill,
In an eternal snow globe.
Jived by their shakings.
Passionate pulses-
Of the heart, thumping between
Love and hate, Yin, Yang,
A rise, a descent
But rarely an achievement,
Due to youth's pan-curse,
Which is a forethought,
Left in the deep dust wells of
Judgment, choosing flame
Over reason, but
Flame leads to ice, and up, all-
Ripe with gravity.
We move from lover,
To nothing, and back again
But still continue,
To push. Reaching the
Summit, we are choked with fear,
Gagging out the words-
I am Sisyphus
Your heart is my own boulder-
Love’s repetition.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very good, comrade.10/10