It has been a long time since I last wrote a poem. I am only able to write if the feeling is so intense, whatever feeling it is (anger, love, tense) – and now that I am much calmer and always put an effort to be moderate, I have lost this ability to write. What is there to be expressed then?

But I still indulge in words written by others, particularly this one. When Valentine is in the air, it is hard to ignore. I don’t celebrate Valentine of course, but what is wrong in appreciating this beautiful feeling, right?

Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her

by Christopher Brennan (1870-1932)

If questioning would make us wise
No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;
If all our tale were told in speech
No mouths would wander each to each.

Were spirits free from mortal mesh
And love not bound in hearts of flesh
No aching breasts would yearn to meet
And find their ecstasy complete.

For who is there that lives and knows
The secret powers by which he grows?
Were knowledge all, what were our need
To thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?

Then seek not, sweet, the “If” and “Why”
I love you now until I die.
For I must love because I live
And life in me is what you give.


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