In the Pretense of Love

What I touch with my eyes, he wants to touch me back with his hands!
Seeing such childishness in him, I laugh and keep on laughing.
But when I sit down to think with a cool head, it begins to seem—this isn't childish behavior at all, this is truly inhuman.

Alas... I've taken all this lightly, using love as my excuse!
Will that person ever come to know that he is inhuman?

I, transcending my womanhood, breaking free from the shell, wanted to embrace him in the fierce longing-desire-remorse of becoming fully human.
Yet that man has no interest in wanting to become human—he has only urgent lust!

So what shall I do now?
Run away?
But running was never in my nature.

Must I then grab my lover by the throat and force him into humanity?
What if he refuses? What if he roars and claims himself a man, saying... I am human, I am male. Desire is man's primal and only trait. Desire is the ultimate truth!
...what would my answer be then?