Equal

Why are you not behind the door
Thirsty for you
So as to drink in me
What I save just for us?

We are
What no one else
Can feel.

A violet light
That I envelope you in.
A white light
That I support myself in.

I am much more than a body.
It is not me you touch
When you lift me uncovered.
You offer me to the heavens
A piece of light
Naught without you.

Let us run through the warm winds
Naked.
Just us.
Without beds, without doors.

I don't think of you
You whom I have.
It is those who escape me
The unknown
Who sweeten my torment.

I adore you
Free woman.
You receive
One who venerates you as
An equal.

I am not in the measured days
In the full hours
I am not in the midst of people
Nor within clothing
I am where I do not see myself
Within you.

Seated before you
I adore you.
And since I venerate you
You lift me up with you.

Goa, November 2004

Um igual / An Equal

Porque não estás atrás da porta
Sedento de ti
Para em mim beberes
O que guardo só para nós.

Somos
O que mais ninguém
Pode sentir
Luz violeta
Em que te envolvo
Luz branca
Em que me sustento.

Sou muito mais do que um corpo
Não é em mim que tocas
Quando me levantas descoberta
Ofereces-me aos céus
Pedaço de luz
Nada sem ti.

Vamos correr por entre o vento quente
Nus
Apenas nós
Sem camas, nem portas.

Não penso em ti
Que te tenho.
São os que me escapam
Os desconhecidos
Que adoçam os meus tormentos.

Adoro-te
Mulher livre.
Recebes
Quem te venera
Um igual.

Não sou nos dias contados
nas horas cheias.
Não sou por entre as pessoas
nem dentro das roupas.
Sou onde não me vejo
Dentro de ti.

____________________

Why are you not behind the door
Thirsty for you
So as to drink in me
What I save just for us?

We are
What no one else
Can feel.
A violet light
That I envelope you in.
A white light
That I support myself in.

I am much more than a body.
It is not me you touch
When you lift me uncovered.
You offer me to the heavens
A piece of light
Naught without you.

Let us run thorough the warm winds
Naked.
Just us.
Without beds, without doors.

I don’t think of you
You whom I have.
It is those who escape me
The unknown
Who sweeten my torment.

I adore you
Free woman.
You receive
One who venerates you as
An equal.

I am not in the measured days
In the full hours
I am not in the midst of people
Nor within clothing
I am where I do not see myself
Within you.

Seated before you
I adore you.
And since I venerate you
You lift me up with you.

(Tradução Isabel Santa Rita Vaz)

Love, by Aakritee Bhandari Sinh

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing. If you have love in your life it can make up for a great many things you lack. If you don't have it, no matter what else there is, it's not enough.
Love, like truth and beauty, is concrete. Love is not fundamentally a sweet feeling; not, at heart, a matter of sentiment, attachment, or being "drawn toward." Love is active, effective, a matter of making reciprocal and mutually beneficial relation with one's friends and enemies.

Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking.
It is not easily angered; it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres.
Love never fails.

Where love rules, there is no will to power; and where power predominates, there love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other.

I love you. My children.

The heart grows,
Pushes against the lungs,
Knocks against the bones,
Ruptures the skin.

How I wish you would feel my Love
In my embrace.
Huge
Transcending us.

I plunge into your eyes
So that you may sense me
Whole within you.
For ever
In an eternal leap.

I do not wish to dish out food on to your plates
I do not wish to teach you to read and count.
I wish to kiss you
To cling to you
Invisible
Priestly
In the same geminal love.

Goa, India, 2004