Her name is love.
I have never seen her, 
I have never met her, 
Neither have I spoken to her, 
Nor touched her.
I have head of her fame, 
Her works and portraits, 
Are painted with beauty.
A phantom and a mystery; 
She indeed is priceless.
Like the elephant's fable, 
She is called: Eros, Agape
Philos and more; 
Which speak of how, 
She is felt by all.
A lack of her presence, 
Brings dismal emptiness.
A misuse of her, 
Brings unimaginable pain.
Her name is love.
I will see her, 
I will meet her, 
I will speak to her, 
And certainly touch her.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    