I do love you; it's to you no surprise,
of sins erred there is no confession;
nor on principle I make a concession,
to no one my own feelings are a guise.
the reasons for division I can surmise:
that you have a very strange obsession;
of you I am not any possession.
I do not know who gives this ill advice.
My life is broken while I live without you,
to you it's nothing to put my life on hold
and to me it now seems as real madness.
At heart my feelings for you remain true.
At night in prayer I do my hands fold,
while to God I go with this great sadness.
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem