on the day
we learned to love
and speak well
about love
we bare it all
give it all
and not counting
on the day when
love is gone
when it left us
without much talking
we wake up
eyes wide open
asking for accounting
what have you given
and what i have taken
which one was real?
love or
the unloving?
were we not tricked
by Schopenhauer?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem