To me,
Some are nothing,
Some are pleasing,
Some are tempting
But only you,
Who’re intoxicating.
You are
To many, nothing,
To some, pleasing,
To a few, disturbing
But only to me,
You’re maddening.
To you
Many are nothing,
Some are interesting,
A few are inspiring
But only I,
Who am disturbing.
It is not your fault;
It is my vulnerability.
It is not my fault:
It is your magnetizing.
Let fate be put to be at fault.
05.11.99
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem