The day I start loving you once again
Will be the day you stop thinking of me,
The day you stop uttering my name
In and out of conscience;
Even unconsciously so
Never consider
Reliving those moments of ours
Lost in between broken dreams...
Behold
And stop recalling my smell -
Not even in afterlife
Not even in those few empty sparks of our memories together
Don’t call upon me in your daily séances -
Communions,
Short lived escapades;
Try not to stir up those scattered bits of mine,
Those, lost within you through time –
Try not to endeavor –
Not to rummage around
Bits and pieces – the debris
Of what we had amassed together
Then only it will slowly start pervading
Into your being
Then only it will call upon the lost charm
Once taken away from you
And then only my dear...
Only then -
The passion in you will build itself
For mine to feed upon;
The carcass will grow in flesh and muscles
Pumping out blood with the vigor of life,
Resealing the skin with the proper blemishes of love
And that will be the day
When I start loving you once again,
The day you stop thinking of me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem is full of contradictions and dualities. This is impossible situation created by poet for the reborn of pheonix. Hyped senstivity about the utopian situation and towards the journey from the debris of annihilating life cycle is looks unreal Or he might have been a hypocrite to justify his unreturned Lust, love or something more wider than this(not clear to me,) . Imapact of browning, Hardy and some other poet. Romanticism is still has virtue that only save your poem to be look good, dear.