I am a terrible sinner.
Not some fearsome, ugly, heart-rending sin.
I have committed a sin wrapped in joy, rapture, enchantment!
I am scorched by its stunned beauty!
This sin crosses the threshold, comes to sit beside my pillow,
and I swoon, once or twice, in its fragrance like rain-soaked earth!
Like a newborn's cry beyond the birthing room,
this sin spreads through all my veins and arteries.
Who named this sin love? Which mythic god? Some casteless wanderer perhaps, whose every ritual offering failed at the goddess's feet when he surrendered himself completely?
Among them, who is the sinner? The goddess, or the pilgrim dissolved at her feet...the god!
I had a companion in this sin.
A beginningless companion, like some deity in an ancient temple by the Amur's banks...
Was she equally blissful in this sin of mine? Or more so?
Perhaps she herself doesn't know...