I was led into love with an eager palm,
full of life and vigour and youth.
I was shunted from love with the back of the hand,
careless, selfish and uncouth.
The winds do moan as the trees howl from their roots
and the days grow cold, as the nights grow fierce
with the remembrance of the lover’s previous hold
and the bittersweet tear for the wisdom untold.
I have lived a thousand years of the groans of the women before,
who’s lovers, like mine, were men and boys too foolish to see
that the one they hurt is themselves eventually and not me.
No, not me.
I was led down the rutted road to believing the impossible.
Do not dare to dash my dreams that it may still be true.
Hush, young man, and draw near.
You’re not the one but as comfort you’ll do.
So hush, young man, and draw near.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.