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ALWAYS,
After Pablo Neruda
Do
not believe,
Do
not suppose, if even for a moment,
That
I care.
Forget
about it!
I
am not concerned about those other men,
The
lovers who came before me.
Your
friends, the guys who once had staked,
Had
boasted title to the blood rush of your heart,
They
mean nothing to me.
Come
to me carrying an old boyfriend on your shoulders.
Show
me that picture,
The
one which has a hundred men sniffing your hair.
Conjure
up a mother goddess image,
A
thousand guys nestling between your breasts,
Or
tell me you have had acolytes adoring your feet.
Flood
me over as were your memories
A
monsoon river torrent, when in mid-July it empties
The
mountain-gulley slopes of Goa,
And
speeds all great, red earth out into the Arabian Sea.
Roar
into me with the tidal wave of all your mementos,
The
debris of your keepsakes,
The
twisted wreck of every precious gift,
Which
once had been bestowed upon you
From
the bleeding hearts of your now-drowned lovers.
Let
me see the length and width, that terrible demolition,
How
long the debris stretch as all your memories hit the beach,
How
deep and far its tear inland, up, over the coastline!
All
humanity succumbs to the timeless motion of the surf.
Yet
here I am.
I
wait, I am waiting for you.
No
matter what, who you bring along.
We
are alone, we shall always be alone,
We
shall always be you and I.
And
here -- here is the time when,
The
place where, our love begins anew.
Our
affection reaches beyond the stint of ordinary dimension,
It
has settled in for the term we call immortality.
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