How many loves have floundered and failed
and never had the chance
to blossom into a thing of beauty
because it lacked romance?
How many hearts have withered and died
and never understood why
the one that it did its beating for
was so hard to satisfy?
How many eyes have turned away
without a lasting look
and wandered in search of another
and forgot who they forsook?
Love when it's real does none of the above.
It never lives in fear.
It's simple, yet grand in every way
and most of all, sincere.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem