Thoughts Ever Renewed

A young pen... carving its way through the world of letters, with great elegance and confidence!!

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Lay your head on my breast and pour out your pains to me, that I may carry them so they weary you no more... Do not fear for my heart, that it might sink under their weight, for your parting has hardened it to bear sorrows, however grievous. All the arrows left in misery's quiver cannot draw blood as the first arrow did...

Let me toy with this lock dangling over the noble brow, for it is the only one that never obeyed a command of yours; and this arm of yours — give me strength from it, for life has used up all you gave me; and these eyes of yours — melt me with their glances, for it has been an age since I saw them following me. And then, do not be in a hurry: linger on your way back to me this time and every time — for the loneliness of the void has torn my soul to pieces...

Do you remember our young days, and especially that day when the swing's rope snapped and I would have been shattered but for your arm, which brought back to me breaths that were on the point of departing? What rest and calm I felt; and I sensed that day that I did not want merely to play with you — I wanted you to stay with me always. Only then did I begin to see you as beautiful, strong, tender. My young heart could not explain what I felt that day.

And another time, when we were playing chase by the watercourse and I fell into the water, cutting my foot, and the little current swept away my shoe — you lifted me up gently and carried me home. How I wished our house were far away, so the road might be longer...

How glad you were when I told you I would be going to boarding school to take my secondary studies. You rejoiced because we would then be schoolfellows, and you felt that within your soul there was a lily still closed in its bud, needing a tender gardener to look after it until it opened. And I knew that you saw me as that gardener.

What joy was mine when the audience admired the poem you recited on your graduation day, and I caught the remarks from here and there, all of them foretelling for you a brilliant future in the world of letter and rhyme...

And how I admired your resolve and the strength of your character the day you entered life by its practical door. Your father died, and you chose to be a father to your brothers and a mother to your little sister. Many a time I saw you a schoolmaster by day, a cook in the evening, a nurse in the morning; and often I longed to go to you and help you — but where do I stand against the traditions?...

I still remember how my cheeks flushed with shyness in the church hall the day you slipped that white lily into my hair, saying: the whiteness of lilies softens the blackness of the night. And when I laughed at your poetic manner, you bewitched me with something out of the poets' stock-in-trade that made me bow my head, contented of eye and quiet of breath.

And the day you came to bid me farewell: "Our letters will be a love story for our children." So you said to me, and so it was.

And my return — was it not a dawn for us both?..
"Tomorrow the sun will not rise, because it has sent you out radiant in its place; and the buds will not open, because you are the awaited bud that has opened. And the day after tomorrow, the watercourse and the vineyard and the path — their banks will shine, because we shall walk them together."
Five years we lived together, and we never wasted a moment explaining happiness, for it was us, and we were it.

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"My head has wearied of the pillow; it does not ease the pains. Don't go; don't leave me." And you dozed off, and the doctor sent me out of the room; but your sleep did not last long.

Afterward you rose yourself, asking for me. You went back to your bed, and I sat on the chair, playing with your beloved hair. And when your brother came with "Aida," our daughter, you took her in your arms, and our trinity was gathered for the last time.

Aida was taken out of the room, and we were left alone with our love. A fearful silence reigned, each of us afraid to speak lest the trembling of the heart betray itself. But you, true to what I knew of you, were brave: you talked of things to divert me and lightened the weight of the pains upon me; then you wrapped me in your arm, taking your farewell with all the strength that remained in it, and with your burning breaths giving me the last warmth they held.

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All I remember now is that at that hour they carried you out of the room; and I saw nothing and heard nothing and felt nothing after that. And now, as your last words storm in my head, I feel as though I sense everything, and see everything, and hear everything: "Don't cry. Let me leave you smiling at the pains. Life requires strength — so be strong, with your beauty"...

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Our daughter has grown, my beloved, and would that you could see her — or perhaps you do see her, I do not know — a radiant smile and an overflowing stream of intelligence and love. She is like you in her faith in life, but I fear for her because of that faith...

Why are you always in such a hurry to go?.. Come always, and take your time in returning... Our letters — our daughter has gathered them up. But we, you and I — who, I wonder, will gather us together again, and forever?..