Chapter 7 seven

I've done this so many times you think I'll be back again soon. To tell you the truth, I had the same doubts in my mind. Because spring comes back every year; the full moon bids farewell and comes to visit again, and the flowers come back every year to blush on the branches, but I bid you farewell just to return to your side. But hold on to the illusion for a while, and don't drive it away callously. When I say I'm leaving you forever, accept it as the truth and let the mist of tears temporarily deepen the shadows around your eyes. When I come again, you can sneer all you want.

So I laugh at myself and break my secrets in jest. I speak lightly of my pain, lest you should do so. I want to tell you the truest words I want to say, but I dare not, I am afraid you will not believe me. So I pretended to be true, and said the opposite of what I really meant. I make ridiculous my pain because I fear you will. I would like to use precious terms to describe you, but I dare not, for fear that I will not be rewarded accordingly. Therefore I give you harsh names, and boast of my toughness. I hurt you because I was afraid you would never know my pain. I long to sit silent by you; but I dare not lest my heart come out to my lips.

So I gossiped lightly, hiding my heart behind words. I roughed up my pain because I was afraid you would. I long to walk away from you, but I dare not, lest you see my cowardice. So I casually walked up to you with my head held high. Thrills thrown from your eyes keep my pain forever fresh. I shall never be an ascetic if she is not ordained with me. It is my firm resolve that, unless I find a shady abode and a penitent companion, I shall never become an ascetic. No, my friend, I will never leave my fire and home to hide in the woods, If there were no echoes of laughter in the shade; if there were no tulip-colored dresses blowing in the wind;

If its silence were not deepened by soft whispers. I will never be an ascetic. Hold the comfortable, simple, close smile together in your arms. Today is the holiday of the Phantoms, who do not know when they will die. Let your laughter be but meaningless joy, like the sparkle on the surf. Let your life dance gently on the edge of time like dew on the tip of a leaf. Play upon the strings of your harpsichords an indeterminate, momentary note. I think I will be sad for you, and I will use golden poetry to cast your lonely image and make offerings in my heart. But, my bad luck, time is short.

Youth fades year by year; spring is temporary; feeble flowers wither meaninglessly, wise men warn me that life is but a dewdrop on a lotus leaf. Can I ignore these and just stare at the person who betrayed me? It would be unhelpful, stupid, because time is too short. Come, then, my rainy footsteps; smile, my golden autumn; come carefree April, throwing your kisses. You come, and you, and you! My lovers, you know we are all mortal.Is it a smart thing to break your heart for someone who takes her heart back?Because time is short. Sitting in the corner of the room and meditating, it is sweet when you write all of you in my world in rhythm.

It is heroic to hold one's sorrows close and never be comforted. But a new face, outside my door, lifts up to meet my eyes. All I can do is wipe away my tears and change the tone of my song. Because time is short. If it makes your heart tremble, I'll take my eyes off your face. If it makes you startle suddenly while walking, I will avoid it and go another way. If it upsets you when you string your wreaths, I will keep from your lonely garden. If I make a splash, I won't row a boat by your river.