You know, love and friendship are free elements.
They cannot be bound by the logic of chains and captivity.
Our friendship was born out of a cluster of self-inspired, mysterious feelings.
Around us, a beautiful monsoon-clouded atmosphere had formed.
Sipping from cups of love-filled tea, we would gaze at each other in wonder.
You and I—two souls—would ride on a Hero cycle to the lonely mango tree by the riverside and spend hours talking.
You know, this year that mango tree has blossomed.
It spreads such a sweet fragrance.
Will you come this monsoon?
When the storm knocks down the mangoes, we’ll gather them and eat, mixing them with salt and chili—
the same salt and chili you now carry with you, to rub into my heart.
Will you come?
I’ll stand beneath your window, just as I always did from the beginning.
But these days, whenever you see me, you shut the window with a sharp click. Why?
It hurts me. It makes me ache.
Don’t you remember—you once stopped my cycle and asked,
“Poet, will you take me to the riverside?”
I was lost in your beautiful eyes.
You sat on the back of my cycle, and when we reached the riverbank, you sang softly into the air.
Tell me, why don’t you sing for me anymore?
Why do you turn your face away whenever you see me?
And yet, my friendship is still not free of chains.
I’ve been trying to stir those old feelings in your heart,
but failing again and again, I’ve acted like a tyrant.
Every afternoon, I throw pebbles at your window.
And you’re forced to open it and scold me,
“Hey, fool, why are you throwing stones? Can’t you see the window’s closed? I’m busy.”
Busy? You’ve started showing me your busyness?
I had brought hot tea for you—
so that together, while sipping, we could talk about crows and cuckoos,
and count the blossoms on the mango tree.
The tea has gone cold.
My hand picked up a small piece of brick from the street, ready to toss it at your window.
But today, I didn’t throw it.
You came, and I let you.
You wished to stay, and I let you.
Now that you want to leave, I must let you go.
Today the air is thick with dust.
My chest burns on the left side.
My eyes feel damp.
Open your window, just a little—
Come, see—the mango tree is in bloom.
Its fragrance is divine.
After today, perhaps, I won’t throw pebbles at your window anymore.
