The Hum of Detached Melody

: I never wanted to write about love, yet nothing can be written without loving. All this love-making is the destination after much difficult worship; do you think there's any need to keep the feeling of love dormant?

Even if you don't say it, I want to understand—in this untimely hour, you are the one who loved me—no, that's wrong, you still love me even now—in that very feeling I want to keep writing about you, hundreds of pages drawn in this momentary melancholy, I tear away the sleepless sheets of wounded pride, throw away the flower petals I couldn't give you, return like a waiting sailor to the far shore of the current; the sudden fragrance of your body utterly undoes me…

: Then why this separation?

: Separation will teach me to write even more, what selfishness is there in that, tell me? I only want to write, thinking and thinking of you; then where's my hesitation in accepting separation? Do you think this will diminish the love? You surely know, the tug-of-war of this disconnected time won't stop, accepting it all and nurturing you deep in my heart—whatever pain I'll have to endure—only in that will I feel the intense touch of loving you terribly.

In that forbidden enchantment where I am not yours, don't remain imprisoned in that cell. For me, then, keep the restless waiting of your kiss in utter wounded pride; in the detached melody's enchanting murmur, think that I wanted to leave everything of myself for you.

Perhaps even today I couldn't become what your heart desired; perhaps you didn't understand that I still fail to receive your love. You might as well forget me, for even the distant parade of happiness surges only in search of you…how can I hold you back, tell me!

By what right do I even say, stay, don't go! Without you I feel terribly suffocated, every moment this trivial house of memories arranged in your absence crumbles to pieces.

: Don't leave then; you won't return, I know.