A Primitive Way of Love

Love me in a very primitive way

As the earth loves the tremor of rain

Come without an appointment, without flowers or a phone message

No need to wear perfume or a collared shirt

There is no necessity to trim your facial hair

Or wash your mud-soaked shoes

Come with all your chaos, your fatigue, and your quiet hoarse voice

Ignoring time, say nothing, break the vessel of words

Love me like a simple worker who comes home exhausted

Wipes the grease off his hands on my skin and then cleans me slowly

Love me like a popular song resting in your middle ear, hard to forget

Like a shepherd running after his sheep fearing for them from the wolf of days

Breathe into the clay of my soul to revive me again

Love me before the war starts, before the trees, birds, and names leave

And love remains alone

Love me... before I go to my final death...!

This world has disappointed me

The rain that fell out of season

The tree that sold its heart to autumn

The river that split from its mother’s breast

And the sky that started pouring me like a cloud to drown

This world has disappointed me

No one played me as I love

No one wrote me with eternal ink

No one read me with eyes empty of forgetfulness

I, my love, am the song of eternity

That still pampers the wakefulness, the night, and the endings

I am the sun’s flower burning, to be extinguished by your abundant tears