I Wanted More Than Just to Love, I Wanted to Live

I missed your scent without knowing your path.

You came and then you burned me.
The rains did not fall, the springs did not come.
The fires within me do not die out, even though you are gone.

Whose eyes hold them now, and in whose heart have they taken root?
You who seeped into my heart, to whom did you draw them?
My sun grew cloudy, my breath grew short.
I am gone, I am weary; even if I die, do not come back.

I could not have known: before meeting someone, their scent could be felt deep within.
So it is, my heart,
Let not being unable to unite be our fault, but let giving up be our shame.
But to love, yes, to be able to love someone—that is our reward in this world.
After all, the beloved and the wound both come from the Creator.
To know you is the most beautiful thing in my life.