Love is of sorts
that it can confuse
a heart that beats it
for the one it cared for.
When does love matures
form infatuation to real thing
for it sometimes betray reality
if love only appeals to the eyes.
True love if measured
would meant everything
despite of unpredictability
it lingers even in its darkest.
For love once born
in the heart will live
and survive in any ways
because love has no limits.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem