To search one's heart
is not an easy task.
I took a stand
on what I still assert.
I must do this.
I can't do what you ask,
not even
if you make yourself be hurt.
Yet each complaint
still breaks me down again.
You catalogue
each sacrifice you've done.
Your pleas show so much fondness
through the pain.
Why do they all assume
on my part none?
The more you call me stubborn
when we fight,
the more you tell me
your love I repel,
the harder it is for me
not to write
as if it's true,
when I would wish you well.
You tell me how you suffer,
and you do.
yet sometime you might see
I suffer too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem