Love is a used gift. A wretched curse.
It is not complete without hate and worse
Than death which, eventually, brings peace.
Sacrifice screams from behind Love’s shoulder
While Jealousy tries in vain to hold her,
Love sits forever weeping in the heart,
While Contentment gets ready to depart.
Love burns a heart with hot fire, piece by piece,
Expecting each one to cry out its thanks,
Besides streams of joy, dying on their banks.
Without it, hearts weep and, with it, they cry,
Without it, they live and, with it, they die.
It makes the wise buffoons and makes fools so wise,
Strips truth naked and transforms it to lies,
A sinner learns to mends his ways, for love,
Prometheus was shunned from Heavens above
And Achilles died in Patroclus’s dream;
Oh, all things of love are not what they seem!
Love burnt the beautiful city of Troy,
And it did the strength of Samson destroy.
Love leaves neither God nor mortal alone,
Promises a smile and leaves back a moan.
It sees its pleasure in torment and grief
And lives ‘til death or is instantly brief!
Creates victims who are in love with those
Who love some other with far greater throes.
There are victims who love and never ask why,
These are the fullest fools – amongst them am I.