The Last Station of Memory

– There's no rush anymore to catch that speeding train, yet I've returned... like this.
What more can I give you, tell me?
– All of myself.
– I want so badly to run my fingers through your hair, Neer.
– I'm drowning inside you.
– When you hold me close just once, all my hurt melts away in an instant... don't stay angry with me.
– I've never been angry with you about anything. You don't know, Tithi, how deeply you've stirred something in me.
– What are you murmuring? Come here, come to my heart.
I know that if I say something in anger, it hurts you.
I can speak harsh truths to anyone's face, I'm used to it.
But that day I couldn't say anything to you at all...
I could only hold you close once before you left.

– For the last time, wasn't it?
– Not the last, Tithi.
My desire to keep touching you will never end.
You don't know the meaning of 'ending,' do you?
In love, there are no temporary breaks.
There, 'completion' is unnecessary.
It's because incompleteness exists that love is so rare.
So don't go searching toward 'endings' for memories, Tithi.
– Is that why you remain so elusive to me?

– You are incredibly beautiful, Tithi.
One cannot stay touching you for long.
– When you touch me, I feel beautiful myself...
I want to love my own soul then.
But your silence hurts me so much, Neer.
– I am feeling you.
– If you would just speak a little at a time, perhaps there wouldn't be so much suffering.
Maybe you have nothing important to say to me, maybe that's why your silence doesn't break.
– Since holding you close, a kind of thirst for peace has taken hold.
Looking into your eyes, I've fallen under a spell.
Don't force me to say something, Tithi.
Don't you know? I simply cannot speak.
Keep me in your imagination.
The way I reveal myself in your feelings, it seems as if I've truly spoken with you.

– Have you become just like my imagination then, Neer?
– Perhaps... that's how I see myself anyway.
– If I cannot love you, I will be lost.
May our souls never be separated.
I will find you...

In that gray dream,
in the sky of my imagination,
or in winter's devastating wind.
When you leave, Neer,
nothing will remain mine anymore.
Only some traces of feeling will be left...
the ones I wrote thinking of you.
Like your touch,
I'll live by caressing them.
I have no strength beyond this.