Love loves to love love;
beware of this kind of love:
narcissistic, overtly possessive
self-centred, strongly addictive.
When pursued, coyly elusive,
when gained, sweetly persuasive,
when lost, bitterly depressive,
when spurned, deadly corrosive.
Love tends to be pro-active,
engaging, yet manipulative.
We love this kind of love.
But there’s another love,
one as gentle as a dove:
selfless, always outgoing,
like a fountain overflowing,
constantly giving and receiving,
but never losing nor gaining;
ever patient and enduring.
We shun this kind of love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem