Heart pumpeth blood
mind liveth in brain
that dwelleth in thy skull
and thy soul, poor wee soul
liveth not. It is hot air.
then where love cometh from
where doth it go?
I sayth heart
No mister, thou art wrong
not heart, heart hath blood
nothing but blood
love hath no home
love liveth in the air.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Astutely penned poem. Beautifully crafted. Thanks for sharing.