Night still does not lose its maidenhood

 
A silent night clings to my eyes.
The city holds its breath. An unnatural calm all around.
Not even a leaf trembles on the trees.
The restless bird is at leisure; in its nest, in its own home.


Weariness showed in the wind's eyes.
The night sky, alone, severed, murmuring.
The clouds stand motionless.
No awareness stirs on the moon's surface.
One moon inside another moon.


I sit here. Alone. In my customary way.
An entire unbroken night. Waiting to be lived through.
Three-fingered battalions; faithful, yet disobedient.
Impenetrable formations of black letters.
In every pore of the heart, shields and swords.
Clashing sounds arise, ears ring and lock shut.


Sitting before me...
this solitary me that is mine.
The moonlight is mine, and as bonus
my entire share of ordinary night.


Someone will come. Someone will come to see me.
Will come, sit beside me.
They won't let me spend this endless night alone.
They'll come and ask for their share. Of night. Of light. Of darkness. And of me.
I will be afraid. In fear I'll let myself become scattered and bewildered.
There's a certain fear in the moment of losing solitude.


A 'you' will arrive.
I'll keep gazing into those eyes from very close.
I know this person. I and we see them every night.


Beloved 'you', seeing me will gather some resentment within you.
You'll want to stay, ask me to let you remain.
When pushed away, wanting to stay is the rule!
And when wanting to stay, being pushed away is the rule!


In these eyebrows of mine, in the jasmine of my hair
magic scattered, sunlight rubbed in.
This pull, this peace, this shelter—
you lack the strength to ignore.


If suddenly it occurs to you,
why not just stay! What would happen if I stayed!
Then together we'll keep the night awake,
chase away sleep, pull dawn closer.
Bring the repeated joy of ancient sins. Therefore,
the unbearable moments of my solitary night will end.


After this. Another night. Another complete loneliness!
I'll think, let me call someone! If I call, surely someone will come!
The next moment I'll wonder, what if they too leave!
This way, another of my nights—unrecorded
in the world's ledger—will pass sleepless.


Before it passes, it will call a little bird near.
I'll watch the bird. That bird is naughty, sweet. A bit mischievous, a bit angry!
That bird can only be loved, cannot be kept close.
I will cry. I cry every night.
When I cry, no one can catch me. So I am a happy person.


The bird comes the next night too.
The bird comes with promises to stay, but
never comes in order to stay.
Whether I am ready for the night, or
the night is ready for me—while understanding this,
before the next calculating blink can fall,
another solitary night descends.