Confession
I will confess, I like you very much.
But what is love? Do I possess it now?
Infatuation as a burning match,
May burn away before the sacred vow.
I will confess, I think about you.
But what is love? Is this a constant thinking?
I think today. Tomorrow someone new,
May come along. And feelings will be sinking,
To an ocean floor as a sand that's driven by
The waters' waves with windy correlation.
Eternal love for which I was to die,
Will be no more than mere infatuation.
I will confess, I let you in my heart.
It hurts for you with the fatalic longing...
But as for love, I'll have its rightful start
When we'll be joined in holly matrimony.
Margarita Kolomiytsev
http://www.ritapoems.org/eng/poems.html