They say that all in love is fair?
But fairness in itself is rare,
For love is like an incurable disease,
It pollenates us all like bees,
And just when you think you've found the antidote,
Fear rears it's head like an un-needed anecdote!
The saddest thing when love turns sour,
It contradicts our finest hour,
With things we cannot contemplate,
When the love you share turns to hate.
If only all in love were fair,
There'd be a lot less lonely people out there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem