Sometimes she loves me,
sometimes she don't...
Sometimes we make love,
most times we won't...
Sometimes I laugh,
some days I cry...
Some nights are lonely..
but I make it by.
Can't recall when,
i last heard, 'I love you, '
Can't remember when,
I said the same to you...
The bond that was,
it ain't no more,
The tie that binds,
has flown right out the door...
Sometimes she loves me,
some days,
she may care;
Some nights,
when she holds me,
I forget
that I
am there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A reality-denuding opus on the capricious antics of Love, and its frequently unpredictable turns. An uncannily resonating treatise on the delicate them that easily thrusts the vicariously mirrored reader into the familiar shoes of the persona's universal...revealingly candid piece of extraordinary thematic relevance.