The Endless Bridge of Two Twilights

Liking is not love, after all!
With this thought lodged in mind and consciousness, I walked my own path...
Just then, suddenly, I met you! Though you might say,
the meeting happened somewhat by losing my way!
Lost on the road, I found you one unexpected evening.
Why 'unexpected'—let me come to that now.

That evening,
at that particular moment, for that particular reason, in that particular guise, for that particular person I was waiting,
when that person could not finally muster
the courage to end my waiting
and reach me, learning this,
just as I found the world unbearable
and wanted to flee far, far away, just then...
Yes, at that very moment, when all was not yet lost...
when there was still so much road left to walk...
as a vague herald of such thoughts
you suddenly appeared before my entire existence!

Until I saw you that evening,
I had the strength not to mistake liking for love,
—I lived preserving this simple faith, this confidence;
today this evening you have shattered even that belief,
leaving me empty, bereft...now I feel the flailing of your hands and feet!

How strange, isn't it!
That day too was evening!
And today too, now it's evening!
The only difference is, that evening I suffered for losing everything,
and this evening I cry out for having found it all!

In the devastated, colorless mental state in which I first saw you,
in a strange emotion you seemed nothing but
my savior.
At the moment I was wounded and tormented by sharp betrayal,
you came as a kind of literal translation of all my hope.
I'm terribly weak at free translation...that's my only sorrow!

When I had taken life to be nothing but a curse,
you came as infinite blessing, didn't you?
...Yes, you!
You came into my liking...
perhaps, blending into love as well
to carry me away on a raft of happiness...you came!

Many people are likeable, but not everyone can be loved!
—wasn't this your simple reasoning, am I wrong anywhere?
The person who tells you not to mistake liking for love
but to surrender yourself to whom you truly love—
that person is you, isn't it, tell me?

But what kind of love is this of yours?
I may have sought love in liking and died, still dying today,
but what did you seek in this love? Mere need?
So did I become just your need?

What kind of love is this of yours?
Though one can bear the neglect of the unnecessary,
can one accept the approach of necessity at all?
This is utter self-loathing!

But...when I rested my head on your shoulder, placed my hand in yours,
in complete trust...when I saw the sky of love with new eyes,
was I then just some momentary need of yours?
When I'm frantically searching for your reflection in all my paintings,
even then was I just your need?
What manner of love is this of yours, tell me, beloved?

In the time you gave me, when I
lost myself, desperately longing to touch you,
even then was I just your need?

With the right you gave me, weaving dreams around you,
when I found you ready to disappear somewhere far,
even then,...even then was I just your need?

Did I remain just a need for your need?
What kind of love is this...tell me?
Is this your love's own form,
dressed in the clothes of necessary love?
Or is this merely unnecessary liking?
Which one is it exactly...please tell me!

Today everything in the house of my consciousness is in chaos!
This necessary love, or unnecessary liking?
Or is it none of these, merely deception?