Society has taught us to shame love—
love as an act is forbidden,
and as a feeling, it must be hidden.
Why do we always take love for granted,
even though it is a human need?
Yet we forbid our children from writing about it.
On our society's soil,
love is a forbidden seed.
A child should write all they want about love—
to love a thing, or a soul by name,
to lie upon an aching heart to ease its pain,
and to tell ourselves to be still sometimes—
like an Ellicott, thirsty for the rain,
waiting for love to come again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem