Poem by David Herbert Lawrence

Lies about Love

We are a liars, because
the truth of yesterday becomes a lie tomorrow,
whereas letters are fixed,
and we live by the letter of truth.
The love I feel for my friend, this year,
is different from the love I felt last year.
If it were not so, it would be a lie.
Yet we reiterate love! love! love!
as if it were a coin with a fixed value
instead of a flower that dies, and opens a different bud.

1. The Song of a Man Who Has Come through
2. Cypresses
3. In Trouble and Shame
4. Mystery
5. Discord in Childhood

Print

1723 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version