In the House of Wishing Clouds

Don't give me tiresome love, rather…
tire me with love—even that would be better.
Fine, don't love me if you won't, but don't deceive,
let them have their palaces—I'd rather stay drenched in love, empty but whole.
What passes for touch in love's name, I don't want—I'd rather have love so touch-shy it aches.
The drunken love that comes, I keep at bay, choosing instead to be drunk on love itself.
 
I want to love again and again,
to fall in love in the constant turning of moments,
to lose myself in you, vanishing completely,
to taste one man's different loves with a different heart.
 
I'm not asking—
that you live only wrapped around me,
abandoning everything to busy yourself with me alone,
that you stop life in desperate love, shouting you love me to survive,
that you drown me in fathomless love, forgetting all, drunk on me today.
 
I'm asking only—
for a small place in love,
floating a little in love, tell me, why so much anger, beloved?
Why does this cloud of sadness bring rain for no reason?
The night I cry in pain, when dawn breaks let your voice ask me, didn't you sleep? did you cry too much?
 
Just as silence's finger captures exactly that much sound,
in love's heated breath lies exactly that much resentment!