the way to love
is always to conceal
what we are
bringing
if we disclose, even sooner,
surely, everything
is lost.
we are here dining
in an old restaurant and
i order pasta with lots
of tomatoes and cheese
and you, as usual go for
the salad.
i conceal what i really
like to eat, what i dream
about, and i manage it well.
you ask me if i like what
i order and i of course said
the yes that you need.
you should have noticed
that in love, in a dining moment
like this,
i do not ask questions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem