The Surrender of Inner Touch

You are the Angel of my life, and I may never have plenty of chances to convey my gratitude; through you, I fought for something Final.

Have I waited too long?

But you are mine!

Look how well I've learned to love now.
When we had that fleeting glimpse, at the end of staying alive, that's when our beginning began.
All those moments I couldn't touch you, I've touched in imagination again and again—
where behind the veil of feeling you are mine,
in impossible solitude you are mine,
in unbearable pain's surrender your small joy is mine.

What right do I have to want more in this one life?
The person inside me had already become yours,
in the intention of some incomplete embrace.
I want to live with you much longer still.
Are you listening? It's not too late yet!
My heart says—life will give me something more.
From you I learned—
to speak with the person inside,
to truly love myself.

I've touched the wounded wellspring of peace—
in your heart's deep turbulence I found
countless tear-colored letters of sorrow.
Every time I searched for your hurt feelings,
I found myself—found us,
found in the excuse of loving you a chance to love myself a little more.
Now I've learned how to live—
pressing pain against my chest,
in tears' regret,
floating in melancholy's spell,
with neglect's strange sweetness.

I feel so strange to myself,
is this really me?
Are you me?
Am I you?
Guilty of touching you, I am erased—
in your indifference I'm torn apart daily by unknown emotions.
I leave my insides with you—
again around you I return in this fairy tale.
Around you my existence circles back,
you remain in my consciousness's depths.

Everything seems so strange these days.
Still on memory's tablet I write words constantly,
on this purposeless path I keep searching for us.
Will I be able to hold onto this path?
Will I be able to draw you on my vision's pure paper—as my own?

I must be able to—even if not now!
You didn't say many words,
yet you touched my feelings—
in ink and words written with your affection.
Those tear-soaked pages hidden in that verbal language I never showed anyone,
what I understood—perhaps even that much isn't enough.
Even in this small sense of entitlement I seem guilty,
the faded ending of memory lost in your feelings remains unknown.

I believe you know—
love is the soul's verdict,
not everyone gets the good fortune to learn living through it!
How many find such purity's trail?
Outside us there's nothing—to me distance means nothing either.
Love never follows grammar!
Every time inside me I say I love you,
that many times with peace in my eyes I listen carefully,
and forget all my ego.

Can one really love like this?
Is this how we love ourselves?
Then is this our path of love?
In your love there's only peace—
your deep touch teaches living with unknown strength.

Are you listening? I'm not alone today.
Even in this crowd I deliberately stay solitary—
to understand your feelings, to draw you close.
Because I've understood—in that lies my existence.


This sickness of touching your feelings has grown so much today—
are you listening? It heals me—
the silent light of unspoken feelings in your heart's depths.

Today you seem so beautiful to me.
Don't close the door—
let everything fly away in winter's wind,
let it merge in embrace's warm sighs
the blurred conclusion of what we've gained.