What is it that men call love?
A lustful urge to feed one’s greed?
Love is not true when it brings no sickness
True love is the desire to be with
Just to behold the object of love
Never spoils or mars the object of love
Like a hen with the brood,
True love is a shield from foes—
Lust, envy, idleness and treachery,
Are all thorns on the bed of true love
But true love shines not when these are absent
The stronger they are, the sturdy the love
Love is not love when nothing is lost
Except it’s nothing but lust!