I have fallen in love
with a girl—a very beautiful girl!
Her face is just like the moon;
her eyes shine like the stars.
The touch of her hands—
or is it a feather?
Her words are a melody.
Books and books of love poems,
I can write for her.
When we meet,
the moments are like a hive of honey.
I feel we are one soul.
What an ecstasy!
Moving around in our fantasy land,
beyond the shadows of sorrow, everything
looks ecstatic, lovely, and grand.
Let the realities not peak
into this enchanting world of dream.
Let me be lost in her eyes that gleam.
Yet at times I still fear, like falling from the sky,
and wake in the grips of a nightmare
with an abrupt scream.
When we are together, I’m happy
otherwise a great deal restless, even sappy.
O I like her smiling face!
She admiringly praises my sense of dress.
Her perfume, her style, sharp and attractive nose!
She looks very cute in every pose.
My sense of humor, she says, is good,
and my body is handsome, as it should.
But why am I so cautious with her,
otherwise anxious? I can't gather.
All this, I told to my very close friend
who said, “This is not love.
For your beloved sake
when you extend your self
and willingly give whatever you can,
not as sacrifice, or looking for in return,
and all this just spontaneously happens:
this is love! You must learn.
And look what they do:
a mother to her baby,
and your dog to you?
I said, “Maybe now I can see.”
Then he said insightfully,
“Love is not feelings, nor is it desire,
but it is a will to act, real action like fire.
Mother to baby and farmer to crop,
each serves and helps without any ego
so that the baby and crop can grow.
But unsatisfied desires are just what you show;
you’ve never tried to extend your heart
by borrowing her joys as well as sorrow;
and you are cautious in your words,
in your deeds, you know why?
Lest your real face
the other should able to find.
Or did you tell her she needs to cook,
attend to the laundry and housework?
But you talk the imaginary, undoable, farce,
and the concrete, unsavory you always shirk.
How long this relationship based on lies
do you think can survive? It has to die.
When you start with false promises,
unbearable pain is the fate;
in the dark you'll certainly grope.
In infatuation, like under the effect of drug,
both of your egos' walls are shrugged:
that gives a temporary feeling of joy-
as usually happens when egos disappear-
but in real life, the life’s ego’s toy.
Can you tell her all your truths,
and have the guts to bear hers too?
Still if the loving feeling is left,
then you can be a hero;
possibly building on love
your castles, starting from zero.
But normally nothing is going to happen,
as the attraction of the opposite sex
gives rise to, what we call, the falling in love.
I have never seen any parent
falling in love with their kids;
or the kids falling in love
with the parents, although they love.
With great expectations
without real concern or heart
what could happen
you could have imagined from the start!
Don't waste your time.
What is your relationship?
I have told you precise.
Instead share with somebody your sorrows and joys:
that is exactly my sincere advice.
Love is truth. Love is trust.
Love is open but it is not lust,
not just feelings,
but the effort for your beloved's good
to do anything you are willing.
Not outward beauty that always fades;
it's the beautiful heart that it timelessly treads.”
I was impressed by what he said,
Yes, this is not love! I decided;
let me seek love elsewhere instead.
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