Profusely to supply you with words
is not what I intend,
nor would I let myself be sway'd
by this feeling, men call love;
for it has as many a name as there are men,
and each one in his own way loves you.
But what is love? that I in mine am less satisfied
as much as you are.
Then it is not love that brings us together.
But the opposite of unfulfill'd capacities
by far more of what we've not loved:
Conscience lovers recall!
more times love is a child's play,
who loves not his toys more
than to be inquisitive of how they work,
unless they stop working,
while LOVE is still in the air.
(C)Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C)2011.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created on: Tuesday, July 16,2013 12: 30: 02 AM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem