When it comes to love
We are all in the dark.
No scientist
Has ever been able to measure its quality,
Figure affection using calculus.
No high-powered lens,
Though we see the architecture,
The starry clouds which make the heavens,
And, what if, electronics power our sight
So to reckon the slightest parts of elemental makeup,
Still no common tool exists whereby
The deep-spin upon my heart and soul,
Or the breath of my every pore
Becomes explicable to vision or mathematics.
I know it would be no easy task.
Yet now how I wish we could be together,
Go back to the farm-land fields
And pick strawberries from the rows,
Return to the way things were last summer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I do not think that we'll ever find a parameter for measuring the spiritual experience called love. I like the articulation, penning and insight of the poem. A lovely piece indeed. Thanks for sharing. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.