False-Pale Love

You know, I'm terribly curious to know
just how much you dislike me,
and why you get so irritated!
Do I seem more unbearable than even I imagine?
Tell me, does reality sometimes defeat imagination?
I'm so lost in foolish love—I can't even grasp how unwanted I am in your eyes!
This foolish love—you don't understand, your indifferent heart keeps me untouchable...day after day.
What a marvelous understanding, isn't it? Do tell!
 
Love that has no worth at all—that's foolish love.
My love constantly sweeps away all my pain and
your anger, insults, contempt, and scorn into the wind...yet survives.
Won't let go despite a hundred obstacles—by what oath! What shamelessness! What enchantment!
You're no less either, throwing down challenges—survive this death if you can!
When the old goes, the new comes—that's life in your eyes!
When you see that I, this me, somehow endure, you increase the neglect a little more!
You intoxicate, you intoxicate. Life rushes forward supported by these two.
Strange life—how shameless!
 
Your phone no longer rings for me,
forget calls, not even messages!
For no one else but you I set aside ego, remind myself—I'm alive!
My shame runs away and hides somewhere!
Say whatever you want to say, and don't say it.
What need is there! So you stop.
I understand everything—the heart won't accept it,
the heart that lives in my heart keeps me at a distance.
You have a forgetful heart—forgets nothing except me.
 
How many times I say
talk to me, talk to me,
without talk the pain grows,
when pain grows tears fall,
I babble nonsense,
then you make me stop again,
when I stop, the river of tears seeks the ocean.
'I forgot' and 'I'm very busy'—both together
make me cry.
Anger or no-anger, pain and no-pain—all mine!
I see they're doing quite well in their own way.
If two feelings don't touch, it's all pretense!
 
You often send
"How are you?"
Tell me truly, do you want to know how I am,
or just stay in touch?
I understand everything!
Yet I'm happy being naive about it—
"How are you?"
 
Now then, hear a story...idle chatter? Will you have time?
No-anger and no-pain—
I told you. Remember?
When angry the anger increases, when hurt the hurt,
no-anger is greater than anger, no-pain hurts more!
The anger whose cause is you,
the pain whose cause is you,
yet you bear no blame—
these I call by such names!
What torment, if you could understand!
What they call pessimism,
I call pain.
A burned body—hides under sheets,
that same body...in the gentle heat of candlelight,
writhes in some strange ache!
People say, just being dramatic!
Only I know how it feels!
 
Well, if you dropped "How are you," is there really
nothing else you need to know? Is that the truth?
Actually there's no need to want to know,
it's fine!
Is everyone as mad as me, tell me?
One who is happiest in a world where 'there's no need'!
I have so much more in common with you—
we both follow the heart's path.
Where's the difference, you know?
You do only as much as feels good, 'what's needed',
I do only as much as feels good, 'what's not needed',
so you are exactly as you are now,
I am exactly as I live now!
All that feels good flies kites of the unnecessary,
in storms of the unnecessary all necessity blows away!
What can be done!
With empty hands and full heart
I swallow pain and laugh alone.
 
Do you know my name? My full name?
If someone calls 'Iti' in front of you,
you'll assume that's me. Right?
Have you ever wanted to know what I do, how I get by, how I live?
Why would you want to? There's no need!
No introduction, but love exists! Don't ask questions, just pour out love. Modern love's grammar!
Having seen you, I no longer see myself,
in everything I see I see you, I search for you!
You won't understand! Understanding needs heart touching heart!
Bound by one condition, just in the gap of a single 'meeting'
years pass in that restaurant's soft light.
Quite amusing, isn't it?
What I want so desperately
I'm trapped crying by that very condition.
I used to understand 'going to get eaten',
now I understand 'going to eat'.
Same meaning—in disaster.
 
Selfish people are terribly unhappy—they punish themselves with their own hands,
they think everyone is like them.
The acts that are without any self-interest,
even seeing those they search for self-interest.
Not finding it, they spend time in restlessness,
the accounts don't match—they lose faith in themselves.
The selfless watch silently, bind them with compassion in their eyes.
Remember, did I ask for much? A song?
One touch to record, another touch to send—is it so hard?
You didn't give it anyway.
You sing so many songs, not one is for me.
I wanted to spend just one whole day beside you...
Not taking your time,
you'd do your work—I'd just stay beside you; nothing more.
In your careful calculations I never wanted to 'waste your time.'
Let no one else know, but I know that even giving my entire being
would show only 'loss' in your personal accounts!
In great fear of enormous loss,
the 'you' inside will raise its voice and shout,
"Are people crazy? Mad? Why would I come to see you?"
I don't know why you came that day, having made yourself mad in your own definition...
These thoughts come to mind, it hurts terribly.
 
Always, after such episodes of painful tears, at day's end I seek forgiveness from the Creator. I understand that suffering so much for any human being, crying—is somehow terribly wrong.
Alas! Then...the same thing again!
Tell me, are those wounded by love's blows shameless? Or is love itself...?
 
This time you gave me such pain for two straight months—I received it,
day before yesterday when you said you're not in a mental state to talk,
all my accumulated pain from before went somewhere;
new pain gathered—what happened to you again! Why are you suffering?
Pain never really leaves, it just changes color from time to time.
You have such long journeys—
one day I wanted to be a companion on that journey,
I even said so.
Can't stay out overnight,
so I said, I'll go with you by train or bus;
fly back quickly by plane,
no no, not sitting in the seat beside you annoying you,
I'll sit somewhere you won't see me, but I'll see you fine.
None of this ever happened.
How could it, tell me?
I'm not your 'special' one, the kind of 'special' that multiplies tenfold when asked.
Long live the 'special'! Take a bow!
 
That day when I had you
I wanted to hold you tight with love
and cry out loud;
not from mere physical desire—from love.
Physical desire anyone can satisfy if they want—
to satisfy love's longing you absolutely need love itself.
I wanted to roll up your shirt sleeve and touch your hand more intimately. And
how horribly you pulled your hand away!
I wanted to rest my hand on your head a little—you wouldn't let me.
The pleasure of such small touches—you crossed that long ago! Didn't you?
These are now trivial emotions to you, just madness.
You acted as if you'd brought someone to the restaurant whose behavior was making you lose face!
Well, did you catch a scent?
Fragrance or stench? Or some perfume?
I didn't catch any. Not at all.
Of course, sitting fourteen hands away, how could I!
You know what a terrible feeling that is—
when one person embraces their beloved feeling,
but the other person won't even place a gentle finger on their back, let alone embrace!
Still, it's good you didn't pretend.
So I wasn't hurt—I felt no-hurt.
 
To understand the wall between love's caress and physical caress doesn't require touching a thousand bodies.
Look into it, prostitutes suffer greatly!
Their whole bodies become bloodied by the sharp touch of loveless physical desire,
but no one gives them a small loving kiss on the forehead.
Do you understand such a kiss's power to intoxicate? Or do you only know bodies?
I want to touch and feel hot breath...
I said this long ago sometime.
Bringing lips close to ear, repeatedly breathing hot air in that game of wish-fulfillment you wanted to indulge in,
that breath I didn't want—your breath was giving wind, not love.
I felt such pity for you. How much you beg in physical desire!
Still it's good. At least after all this time you still remember what I wanted! How is this small?
I was bedridden with high fever for four days. Couldn't eat anything, couldn't walk.
Yet I went. Only I know how I went.
Yet how badly you spoke to me! Why did you do that?
Please don't do that to anyone else! Not everyone loves you!
 
More important than how we behave with people of special status in special places—
is how we speak to the poor cobbler on the street.
I know, you understand everything.
Do you know why I irritate you so much?
You always see me only in relation to you,
nothing else gets seen by you; there's no opportunity...you've bound a thousand-mile life in a one-inch mirror!
Why are you getting angry? Easy...easy. Cool down! Let me speak, I'm not done yet—'you don't want to anyway'. There, satisfied?
Can only get angry but can't love—what a king!
How I am with friends, how with family, what I'm doing, what I like—you never see any of this.
To you—I'm fixed only in one place.
That's why I seem so monotonous and irritating to you.
Do you understand what I'm trying to say?
Surely there are many other reasons for the irritation...
Let there be. I'll go on loving, why worry? Hahahaha...!!