Can infinite emptiness ever be grasped, even in imagination? Or fathomless fulfillment — can that be measured? Beyond this emptiness or fullness, what else remains that cannot be touched by simply reaching out?
What you have given me — is it any less than infinite emptiness or fathomless fulfillment? Do you yourself know how much you've given, or how much you haven't? What you have given could carry a lifetime in the blink of an eye, or would even a lifetime suffice to account for all you haven't given? Setting aside this reckoning of gain and loss, come, let us live a little in this moment?
Your love alone is my last refuge for living, with this small warmth of your love I want to spend the rest of my life contentedly, the joy of your touch, the sweet fragrance of your love... Each night I will sleep entwined with this life, with this body, and again at dawn I will wake, drunk on this very fragrance!
How terribly trivial life is, isn't it — tell me? The memory of your touch that clings to my body or my mind — I have an ocean of objections to shaking it off! Let your love lie across my entire body like a sheet.
Tell me, can you say exactly how much whiteness white or clear white contains? Is that whiteness whiter than our love — tell me truly? Or do you know about the color of emptiness? What does it look like? Just as whiteness or emptiness has no color, does the depth of our love have any color?
The longing to have you close, even a sliver — and the fulfillment in not having you is exactly the same. To tell the truth, in worldly terms, I've received nothing worth mentioning from you! But what I have received, however much I've received, is such wealth that it takes great fortune to gain in one lifetime! This daily, countless loving of you never diminishes what I have for myself. As if the more I give, the more I keep growing within! Tell me, how much love does the Creator keep for himself?
Will you remain this way always — life's tender warmth?