Love

Love
but not the kind that runs
on glowing feet
to and from quick meetings
hunting and hunted down
wounded and wounding
not the kind that gets high
on painful good-byes
but the love
which gives peace and rest
which warms and protects

Love
but not the kind
which has hardly stilled its hunger
before a new one arises
not the frantic one
whipped by demands
often more painful than divine
not the love filled with anxiety
scared of being burned
at the same time scared of not getting to burn
but the mildly flowing love
which dares to rest
and, when the time is right,
to arise from rest.

Maria Wine, translated from the Swedish by Christina Lindström Andersson (last line tweaked by me)