Hesitation

If you won't show me how much you love, then don't let me understand.
If you won't let me know your wounds, I won't ask to know.
If rain falls from these eyes every night, still I won't presume to know if yours ever do the same.
But if I ever realize, if it truly seems you don't love me well, never loved me at all,
that day please don't come to say... I was wrong!
How often I think, let me give up... write no more letters... what would happen if I didn't write?

Then I think...
No... I never loved their form or achievements,
whenever I touched their heart, I was compelled to love them.
I loved them because I couldn't help but love them!
Again and again I've chased after that heart of theirs, which has bound me in a thousand ties of affection.
The more I've tried to stay away, to withdraw, the more my heart has run after them,
the deeper my fear of losing them has grown!
When I've thought, I'll leave, what will happen if I go...
that's when I've come even closer!

Does love always come at the wrong time then?
When all around there's only the dance of dry leaves... the burden of a parched soul scattered on the wind,
is that when love carelessly plays hide-and-seek with the heart?
What more can I give from this wounded, battered heart of mine?
Alas, I've come to them so utterly empty-handed!
It seems I've only taken...
I think I've truly cheated them!

I who have nothing to give,
will they still hold my hand? Call me close?
If I kneel down, bow low and lift these hands to ask for them... will I receive?
After everything, it occurs to me... I'm probably just selfish!
I understand my own needs well enough, yet from the one I've never given anything,
from them I sit asking for everything!
Why did they enter my life? If they had to come, why at such a wrong time?
Do they understand how much it pains me that I can give them nothing?
How deeply I want them to spread wings like birds and soar,
to be happy, to be well—in their own way...
I have such a longing to see this person well.

I dream of keeping them well... how many days it's been!
Yet where am I succeeding! I myself sit like a beggar before them!
Where do I keep them... in my head? My chest? My eyes?
Sometimes I think, why won't this chest split open? If it would, I could see them there!
Why do I love most the one I can give nothing to?
They want nothing, have no demands; no hopes, no expectations...
How shameful this is! To remain small before oneself!
Why can I give them nothing?
Then why do I say so much... 'I love you'?
Perhaps they understand, accept that I have no wealth to give them.
Perhaps that's why they hesitate so much to ask!

But I want so much from them!
I want them to dress me as they please, to accept me.
If not happiness, let them at least keep their sorrows with me!
I want to become their necessity, to become worthy of them.
Let them tell me what I must do to become worthy of them!

I will bring them everything they love...
I will be their wristwatch,
I will be their pen,
I will be the body of their keyboard,
I will be their mirror,
I will be their most beloved book.
Why do they want nothing from me?

Every day when I pick up this phone,
I have such a desire to send them a message...
what are they doing, have they eaten, are they well...
Yet fearing they might be annoyed, I send nothing asking these things.
From this distance, what more can I do for them?
Nothing more than this is possible...

I who am of no use to them,
how can I say I love them?
These days I'm ashamed even to say I love... such terrible shame!
Where do I keep them...
if I place them in these eyes... what's it to anyone?

I see them, I think of them, and in my heart I say...
Don't say 'I love you' that way, don't draw me close that way,
without having anything... does love really have so much to give, tell me?