True Love Poem by Emil Sharafutdinov

What do we love the most among all things? —
Without doubt it is beauty.
But what it actually means? —
For some, indeed, it's just her body
(And even so, until she nears forty) .

But there is true love or there must have been:
When you in love with someone aged, dead, even never seen;
With eyes and teeth, and lips, and skin, and hair,
Plucked out, beaten, cut, torn off… you love her to despair.
Were she ever to become a harlot, no word of blame
You would address to her and love on still the same
The empty sockets where
Her eyes once brightly shone,
This would be the true love..,
When all the rest is gone.