Is love the lore of lust
The primal touch, that lure, which feeds
The preying beast
Looking out at will, at any cost, by any means
To spread its ever moving genes
And if so
Help arouse the vital urges
For which the flesh searches.
It shakes the mind
And blinds the eyes
Turns naivety to desperate cries
And yet
Is readily accepted, as if
Laid out before us worldly creatures
A part of life, a destined set
With all kinds of mental tortures
Through all seasons, year and year
Never far and always here
Will it ever cease to rest
And let true platonic feeling nest
In the ignorant absorbing hearts
And free man from lust for tarts
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem