Whatever you may choose to think,
It wasn't 'love'; whatever that means
In these crude, modern times. I guess
You could say it temporarily
Satisfied a primal urge.
But no more or less than that.
It wasn't love because, please understand,
I felt nothing. I was just going through
The motions. I was playing a part
In a ridiculous, overrated game:
The kind of game that's so colourfully
Promoted in countless, glossy magazines
It wasn't love, notwithstanding,
All the faux, misty eyed sentiment.
It wasn't love; because true love
Is, in essence, pure communion.
It wasn't love; it was just another
Convenient crutch to lean upon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem