It will always be love that is wished,
By those who had it but were too unimpressed.
Since many are seeking an image of it.
That compares to others,
With pretentions to address.
But when those pretentions stale with age,
Those who remember...
The love that came to them and once had,
Wish they could re-create...
That basicness of it to again appreciate.
It will always be love that is wished.
Because real love has no prerequisites.
Or seeks to find an approval for it...
To exist to be,
The love that it is to have, hold, hug and touch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem