Love knows not its own fulfillment..
until the moment of meeting..
Spending itself in passion..
It can never ever empty of itself
It is unfathomable, mysterious, cruel even..
Takes all but gives best of itself..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you write so beautifully.... I feel like responding. Love's fulfillment is within, and It need not hinge on meeting It's passion, is in ones soul Of course, it's the reason to foal.