House of the Desert

These days, somehow, I can't say things simply,
why can't I...!
Can you tell me why I can't?
Why can't I just blurt out,
'Your love is slowly destroying me from within...,
I don't want this wooden, lifeless love of yours!'?

Why can't I just shake off...the words already spoken?
Why, when I think of leaving, must I wonder...what would I leave behind?
What do I even have to abandon?

Those who build families, they too, at day's end,
win by threatening to leave that very family,
like bandits they steal away love, tenderness, affection and care!
Where are mine?
Then I understand clearly—to leave, you need something to leave behind!

My beginning was wrong, you know?
Why didn't I come calculating, bargaining from the start?
Who knew the grinding stone, the mat, and the empty bowl—
weren't mine at all?
When I set up love's cottage on the desert's shifting bank,
how could I know this shore would crumble away in erosion?

Listen, to leave abruptly, you need at least a language,
so when did I become this mute?
More terrible than the fear of being left is not knowing how to leave!
If I'm going to abandon everything, then why did I let go before?

Tell me, why can't I just transform overnight?
Why can't I simply say...
I'm going?