The loving, the loving, we can only say :

Sometimes, there is not a single word in the English language - any language - that can describe the kind of love you feel towards someone or something or a word, a phrase, a sound, a feeling, a season, a sight, a meaning, a verse, a touch, a kiss, a slight of the hand, but yet you know exactly what it is, you can identify the love, you feel it trickling down your face, you feel it flooding into your soul and spirit, you feel it pouring over your head, you feel it surging through your bones and veins, you can see it in the raindrops falling outside or imagine it in the ongoings of countries far away or can have that look of longing, but it is only the knowing, the feeling, that ineffable internal experience that will ever have the slightest idea of you mean when you try, when you try damn hard and well, to talk about love.