They used to be reserved
For moments of intensity
By those who had the nerve
To those who were word-sensitive.
They both have got profaned
Becoming common currency.
Like statues of the saints
That non-believers rub
In orchestrated ecstasy.
And tired words retire,
Resenting popularity,
To gradually expire
Still dreaming of sincerity.
Julia- sooo true! We throw around love like it's nothing. I love pizza. I love my children. where is the equality in that? -shannon
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
love and hate seem to change faster than the seasons, perhaps because the very ground is moving under us - with no fixed points everything hinges on perspective...while in Lizzy Bennet's world virtue was a virtue and though it may have been had in varying degrees, everybody knew what it entailed more or less, certainly not the insincerity so well expressed in your poem. Your ability to write in English is quite wonderful. Sometimes I think you are an imposter, not Russian at all, but really a little old lady living in a tenement in New Jersey. rd