Love. Poem by Driss Ezzireg

I shouldn't have been derailed totally
In the presence of all that assurance.
I know. You should know.
I shouldn't have been shaken utterly
In the presence of that silky nonchalance.
I know. You should know.
I shouldn't have turned blue viciously
In the presence of tender remembrance.
I know. You should know.
But you know, darling, and forgive;
That love is an ill-tempered mistress
That heeds no counsel; nor counsel she gives.
She revels in troubles and excels in excess.