there is no love
here, in this house
where we live, so
we make love, to let
love be born, here
in this house where
we exist, and or
we live, and perhaps
where we must live
and love, but it is
so excruciating for
you, and i am exhausted
too searching for love
where there is none.
perhaps it is not
the question of finding
it but by simply doing
it, here, in this house,
where we love to live,
and say, this will not
be the last, this will
be lasting, and
ambitiously, like the
rest, perhaps
forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem