Dialogue from Another Room

You came one day out of nowhere, almost flying it seemed,
spoke of two or three things about life, and also said this—
exactly how much I mattered among all the important things in your life!
I listened to it all, quietly;
slowly I even believed, sinking into that ocean of illusion.
I never even bothered to verify
the depth of your heart, stuffed as it was with pretense.

You never told lies exactly,...
no, no, I'm not accusing you of that,
but with your parade of "I never lie,"
you hid the real truth every single day;
forgetting to eat or drink, forgetting your own past,
you made me yours, you said, just to heal the wounds of betrayal!

You told me, "This careless and rebellious me never wants to return home,
bind me tight with the edge of your sari and the strength of your love!"

Today I understand, whatever happened between us was just time's demand,
when bad times pass and good times return, you people discard everything from the past.

You know just how to read the bush before you strike,
today you're silent, but I'm certain,
given the chance, you'll come back to me again.

Besides one love, where else would a person return?
Where you are now, I know very well,
there's not a single person who loves you there.

You people believe only in night's pleasures, not day's,
with such a filthy heart,
you still speak of love!

Do you even know what love means?
One who forgets in good times the love of his hard-times beloved—
whatever else his love might be, it's certainly not love!

Let me say one thing ahead of time.
When someone becomes as wealthy as you,
people serve your money and opportunities,
not your love.

Just stop giving all that money and those opportunities,
clear as water you'll see
what is love and what is not.
Love bought with money dissolves back into money.

How much I said, when you return home you'll forget me,
you said with blood-red eyes, "No, never!"
The person who didn't want to go home that day
today won't even set foot outside his house!

You only say, "I don't love the person at home!"
I smile, pressing my lips, and explain to you,
"Yes, oh yes, I don't understand any of your pretenses!"

Listen well, write this down if you must, this one thing I say.
At day's end, all the rebellious boys in the world return home,
you call them real men, but the person who could give
hundreds of proofs of their cowardice—
that person you've never even looked at.