Although I may try to describe Love,
when I experience it, I am speechless.
Although I may try to write about Love,
I am rendered helpless;
my pen breaks, and the paper slips away
at the ineffable place where Lover, Loving and Loved are one.
They are not long, the days of wine and roses: Out of a misty dream our path emerges for a while, then closes within a dream.
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