The Excuse for Breaking Vows

 
One.
Every day I walk down that old road
where we first met.
That day, I stood at that very corner
and greeted you;
was it roses or tuberoses in my hand? I can't remember.
Memories crowd my eyes,
but they find nothing.
My paths cross other paths,
they just never meet me.
I watch rickshaws pass by, follow the buses.


Now my hopes and faith—all finished.
Did I truly know you?
Did I kiss you?
Were you only a dream? Or was there some reality there too?
I know nothing.
Did I then lose myself?


In this world full of half-truths and incredible deceptions,
when there's nothing left to trust, believe this—
even when I express anger toward you or
feel embarrassed, I swear to myself,
you hate me, despise me, yet this is true, after everything,
trust me alone, depend on my love.


Two.
She has gone,
she has gone so very far away today.
This room, this body... darkening everything, she has gone.
When she lovingly drew me close,
it was so intense, I could do nothing else.
I know she'll think of me, remember me, won't be able to forget,
but what does it matter! No one beside you means no one at all.


I couldn't stop her, perhaps because I wanted to, I couldn't.
Not wanting often brings possession—so much exists in love.
Glittering train signals like screams... or fluttering memories,
nothing stays in mind, like a fool I only know
she still wants me. If this knowing turns false,
what remains for me to give to anyone
will be myself alone—which I'll give to myself, I've decided.


Just then someone, don't hurry,
whispered in a secret voice,
the time for love never ripens, sir!
Hearing this I became even more indomitable, rebellious!
Why, I don't know myself.


Three.
Perhaps because I love mystery, I couldn't
recognize you in spring's cracks.
How touch-sensitive and contagious
this intoxicated, drug-soaked love—
hiding, I still write poems for you,
you could never imagine!


I love life's colors!
Let the sun stay only in heaven and soul this morning!
I prefer the rainbow's colorful dress.
Around me green sunlight's laughter burns
in the banyan tree, which for very long, long
stretches has earned my friendship. Joy so effervescent, like
colored kites in summer sky,
never seemed so before!
I depend on light's many colors
only to live truly rich.
I am alone—at home or outside, in car or on street.
No one to make me happy, nothing.


The world is vast, but empty. Lifeless love poems,
love in poetry, all this has grown old, long ago.
The day you left my life,
since then I've learned to live without screaming.
Not from any wish, dream, or hope,
I've learned to stay quiet
to look around me with open eyes, to stop everything.


But if you say you'll arrange a meeting with your eyes,
only then can I cheerfully ruin my entire plan!
All my promises, let them go to hell,
let the pledges' hair turn gray, let them walk on crutches!
I live to hear the heart's song,
thinking I won't let the soul break—that's why all this!


I'm looking at the phone again,
waiting for a call, if it doesn't come, so be it...
I'm only waiting for that time
when I'll breathe deeply again, satisfied, all screaming will stop—
inner or outer.


Four.
What love is can't be properly explained.
Its explanation is simple, yet complex.
There's crying, sorrow too, dreams, and love too.
There's tenderness, harshness too, strength and considerable weakness too.
How it feels to love, no one knows how to explain exactly.
But as long as I'm just passing through it,
I don't need to search anyone out.


Everything passes—problems, sorrows.
Carefully covered, in a spiritual darkness,
in betrayal, in hurt, in ambition, in misery,
sometimes I can even forget that life is momentary, life is mortal.
And surrounded by emptiness. If there's no love,
nothing will remain among us anymore.


If we have no feelings or emotions, none at all,
if it's like this—we're constantly drawing marks
on our lives or driving lazily down that incomprehensible road,
then it's no surprise we're completely ruining life itself.


Five.
This great world shows us various paths and gives counsel.
We move toward the final door, shortening the journey,
love poems, poetry-love sends us some maskless messengers,
they show paths, give signals. If we don't look carefully, that
constant signaling contains a path's sign, which sends word of our soul—
it might be some coincidence or phantom dream, or
mere fate—good or bad!


Every action of our lives becomes just an action—
moving toward light and letting everything remain conditional...
there love stands in the front row!
We move in a fixed schedule—home, family, work, traffic jams.
If anyone's heart flutters hearing this, stop before it's too late!
Don't take responsibility for reading everything, understanding everything, yet listen, listen mindfully!
There are no coincidental events in this world,
events only lead us toward love.