Is love a forest or a garden?

Poetry celebrates a single beautiful and perfect example as if it were sprinkled with magic or light. So where do the writers of love poems get all their worshipped ones from? From which planet are their daughters planets! There is no one on her cheek with a grain of youth, by chance, or her hair curly, or her age broken. And there is no one with a job or work, and no one with glasses on her eyes, or a small gathered chest. And among them, none follow the news or read newspapers. Love in life is nothing but love in poems.