To loves never lived– by Issa Dioume

I never held her head between my hands,
I grabbed at mist and caught myself,

Heavily falls he who has never had a fall,
And I fell harder than a boulder into an ocean.

Now, till she comes, loneliness…

Poor me, Poor me! from hour to hour

The heat of love scorches my heart,
But she my mind holds dear is far

And cannot feel my warmth,
She is fled, chased by my unwilling lips,

What a fool was I,

To let love slip without protest, 

To surrender the honey of life,

Out of fear, out of precaution.

I have nothing now.