I do not say that I do not love you still,
Yet I can't count the days till I see you again.
I do not say that I love you still,
Yet I can't wait to hear you breathe,
For your presence is most endearing and reassuring.
What then is love if this is not love?
I cannot see the wind passing in its fury but I can feel it-
I have never been to a heavenly shore but I believe it,
For these things and experiences are held together by faith.
But then isn't faith seeing the unseen?
I do not say that I do not love you,
For who can define what love is?
Can the poet define its characteristics in a sonnet,
Or maybe a love song with its lyrical delight?
I do not then say that I love you yet,
And I do not say that I do not love you still.
But even though I make a valiant attempt to hide behind verse,
Yet I do know that you do know whether I love you still.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem