Chapter 5 Ⅱ-2

11 You make me great with your love, even though I am just one of all living beings, tossed in the tide of the world, ups and downs in the impermanent grace of the world. Where poets past and present have offered their tribute; where immortal lovers have greeted each other across the barriers of time, you have given me a seat. In the bazaar, people hurried past me—they never noticed my body become precious under your caresses, and never understood that my body treasured your kisses like the sun in its own The holy fire is treasured in the sphere and shines for thousands of years. 12 Today my heart is like a child who pushes away toys in boredom, shakes his head at every word I suggest, and says, "No, not this."

However, the words that are painful for my own ambiguity haunt my thoughts, like clouds hovering over the mountains, waiting for an unexpected gust of wind to remove the raindrops for them with relief. But give up all these vain attempts, my heart, for in the darkness the silence will make its music perfect. My life today is like a church where confession is being held, where the spring dare not flow, dare not murmur. The time has not yet come for you to cross the threshold, my love; just think of the tinkling of your anklets coming along the path, and shy echoes in the garden. Remember that tomorrow's songs are still buds today, and if they see you pass by now, they will nervously burst the immature heart.

13 Where did you bring this restlessness, my love? Let my heart touch your heart, let my kisses kiss the pain from your silence. The night throws this short time from its depths, so that love can build a new world in this place where the lamp is alone and the door is closed. We only have a reed flute, let our two lips take turns playing music; we only have a garland, let me first put it on your head, and then use it to tie my hair as a crown. Take off the veil from my bosom, and I'll make our couch on the floor; one kiss, and one night's joyful sleep, will fill our boundless little world.

14 Everything I have, I have given you, leaving only this layer of undisguised and reserved tulle. This layer of tulle is so thin that it makes you chuckle secretly, and I feel ashamed. The spring breeze blows it away quietly, and the trembling of my heart is also rolling it, just as the waves roll the spray. My love, please don't be sad if a mist of distance keeps around me. My weak reserve is not just a woman's shyness, it is also a slender stem, and on this stem, my willing flower bends to open to you silently and gracefully. 15 Today I put on this new outfit because my body is dying to sing.

It is not enough that I give myself to my love in the same way; through this giving I must make a new gift every day; I am dressed in new clothes, am I not like a new gift? My heart is like the evening sky, and I have infinite passion for the pursuit of colors, so I change my veils again and again, sometimes they show the green of fresh grass, and sometimes they show the green of winter grains. Today my clothes are dyed a sky blue inlaid with rain, which brings the color of the vast sea to my limbs, and the colors of exotic mountains; summer clouds still float in the folds of the clothes in the wind The joy of flying.

16 I thought I would write the words of love in the color of love, but it was buried deep in my heart, and the tears were pale and colorless. If my words are colorless, my friend, would you understand? I thought I would sing the words of love in the tune of love, but instead it echoes in my heart and my eyes are silent. If my singing has no tune, my friend, would you understand? 17 In the night I sang, but you were no longer there. The song found the words I'd been looking for for a day; yes, those words trembled to music in that moment of silence after twilight, just as the stars began to twinkle now; but you were no longer there.I wish I could sing this song to you in the morning, but when you're by my side, no matter how hard I try, the music comes and the words cringe.

18 The night was getting darker, and the dying flame flickered in the lamp. I did not notice when Dusk—like a country girl filling her pitcher by the river for the last time that day—closed the door of her hut. I am speaking to you, my love; my heart is hardly aware of my voice--tell me, does it mean anything?Has it brought you any revelations from beyond the fringes of life? And now, as my voice has been hushed, I feel thoughtThousands of thoughts gaze gazing into the abyss of muteness, by which the night quiveres. 19 When the two of us met for the first time, there was a song in my heart: "Whoever is far away from eternity will always be by your side."

This music is silent now, because I have gradually believed that my love is only by my side, and I have forgotten that she is also far away. Music fills the boundless space between two hearts, but all this is obscured by the fog of everyday affairs and actions. On shy summer evenings, when the breeze brought a mighty murmur from the stillness, I sat up in bed mourning the loss of her who was near me; and I asked myself, "When shall I Chance, to whisper to her in words with an eternal rhythm?" Wake up from your languidness, my song, break through the usual curtain, and fly to my lover in the distance with the infinite novelty of our first meeting.