Beyond the limits of your sight

How I torment you, I know that too,
needlessly keeping accounts of debts and dues,
your absences, my rage at you, my grievances,
...all this exists as if by some law,
I break you into pieces,
burn you with blows, make you weep with pain...you understand this well!
You just don't understand how the ache of not having you
burns me...deep inside, to death;
though I say nothing while burning in the debris of sorrows,
still I hurl the arrow of pain elsewhere—into my own consciousness.

I wound myself, tear myself apart, endlessly,
...and you along with me!
I know I do wrong,
I know I give pain,
I know when you love someone you shouldn't do these things...
But tell me, how can I satisfy the heart's demands without another heart?
When I cry it looks so unseemly,
showing my anger is strictly forbidden,
to be yours I must learn to bear everything
first of all—
these are the rules for me!

I'm forbidden to want you more than I should,
forbidden to come to you whenever I please,
I cannot hear your voice at whim, day or night,
when everyone sits with their beloved over evening tea,
that's when I remember we have no such evenings, you and I!

My wanting is far too much...one who truly loves shouldn't
want so many things...when you pointed this out to me that day,
from then I took an oath to grow strong,
to become unfeeling stone if need be;
never again to want beyond boundaries,
only to give as much as I can, pouring out all happiness!

Inside this chest, a terrible breaking is happening,
do you know this?
You see only the anger, or the hurt,
the resentment or...yet that fire-spark within,
what do you know of that!...when you love, you must only
keep giving, or else it's not love at all!

When you came into this life in the guise of happiness,
you showed me everything—sorrow and joy alike,
you just didn't know that in buying life with my heart's price...
I bought sorrow too...!
One who has these things needn't understand them, I know this well!
In your sky full of millions upon millions of stars,
if one or two fall, what difference does it make to you!
But you are everything to me...if you're gone, who will lose
as much as I will lose?

Your children will be orphaned,
your parents will lose their child,
and I...ha ha ha! What will I lose anyway—
I'm just the dust in the courtyard, what do I know of worth!
No one will ever know that I've lost everything,
everyone will cry for a few days, then when eyes dry,
everyone will plunge deep into their own work!
That's right! What's the use of weeping! Do the dead see so much!

Only I will know what I've lost,
I don't even have the right to cry my heart out!
When tears come like that,
I'll burn my eyes in darkness behind closed doors...no one will know!
When you love, you're forbidden to tell!
My complaint will remain just a complaint in the corner of my mind,
the one I'd complain to has already escaped by running away first!

When people compare one love with another love,
I find it terribly funny...
A mother's love—only a mother can give that, no one else!
If anyone else wants to give it, they'd have to become a mother first!
So too with all love—each has its own place...unique!
There's no question there! Comparing loves is like sin!

A lover's kiss and a mother's kiss are two completely different things,
both supreme gifts, from two different loves.
Anyone who seeks comparison between these two
finds love itself meaningless!
Even after seeing her twenty-one-year-old child's corpse,
if a mother can eat with satisfaction,
then everything else in the world is possible with laughter!
Yet that beloved who dreams only of making a home together,
after waiting fourteen long years, that person
crosses to the other shore before they can build their life together,
tell me, is her suffering any less?

Alas alas...what ruined love!
Love, you have rotted today!
When you compare a mother's love with a father's love,
doesn't it trouble fathers' consciences too?
The father who holds his two-day-old child to his chest
and spends the rest of his life alone after the mother's departure—
does he love his child any less?
Aren't you ashamed...
to pull and tug at love like this!
The mother who abandons her innocent two-year-old child
and walks away holding another's hand in search of happiness—
didn't she love her child then?
Doesn't this happen? Tell me, what answer will you give?

When you calculate even lovers' love,
it's shameful to say...'I love you so much!',
fearing you might then find
some other meaning in this love!
If it goes, it's mine that goes, what's it to anyone else?
The person who calls me 'bird' close to my ear will be lost,
my plea to end the hurt will find no place with anyone else!
Only one who loses knows the agony of losing!
When someone is lost, they don't just lose that person,
they lose the habit of every moment spent with them!
Yet people willingly lose things to forget pain,
to hide the marks of wounds...

The mother who strikes her own child—
she alone knows this is her child!
And one who needlessly angers
her beloved, pulling and tearing,
wounding them, burning them in pain, she too knows,
at day's end this person will remain mine...
Even if a mother loses her child, she
never forgets them her whole life, truly cannot forget!
She only tries to forget every moment!
A beloved too, just the same, only tries to forget...
Dust may settle on memory, but does memory ever truly die?
The one I love—do they ever really disappear anywhere?

O my love!
I want to live a while longer loving you,
burning you with blows, giving you pain...this is all I ask!
Will you grant me that good fortune?
Won't you try to live a little longer with some weariness
even for my sake?
Won't you let me live to hurt you a few more days?
If you leave, my emptiness will tear me apart and devour me...
That day perhaps even keeping myself alive will be mere luxury!