After Loving Me

After loving me, nothing will remain the same for you,

Just as nothing remains the same after Hiroshima,

From the North Pole to the South.

The doorbell that never rang will suddenly thunder like lightning,

And your doors, windows, and heart will tremble violently.

In the next moment, your scattered blood, racing wildly,

Will grow cold, just as in '71, when the strange sound of boots at the door

Turned the people of Dhaka into silent statues.

After loving me, nothing will remain the same for you.

As soon as you step onto the street, you’ll see me rushing toward you

On every rickshaw coming from the opposite direction,

Passing you by, going this way and that. Then your blood and dark glasses

Will be so clouded with darkness

That it will seem as though you’ve seen nothing with those eyes.

After loving me, you’ll forget the difference between reality and dreams,

Between objects and fantasies. Thinking it’s a staircase, you’ll place your foot on the tip of a dream;

Thinking it’s grass, you’ll sit cross-legged in unreality;

Thinking they’re fresh red flowers, you’ll tuck bunches of dreams into your hair.

Under the unopened shower, from December 12th onward, you’ll stand forever,

Believing that Baudelaire’s miraculous clouds are pouring endlessly

Over your hair, skin, lips, and neck in countless streams.

The lips once kissed by an earnest former lover—

After loving me, those ruined lips will crumble,

And there, an immaculate rose will bloom.

After loving me, nothing will remain the same for you.

You’ll feel as if you’re incurably ill, lying in a hospital bed century after century.

The very next moment, you’ll think

That you are the only healthy person in human history, while everyone else is gravely sick.

When you break free from the filthy currents of cities and civilizations and come to a crossroads,

Taking my hand, you’ll feel as though, amidst the dirty waters of twentieth-century life and civilization,

You are blooming atop a blue-tinted lotus stem—

A pure, innocent, sacred flower,

Immortal and untouched.

Transformation of Love

O lover, who has crossed the threshold of ordinary existence,

What truths do you seek in the aftermath of such profound connection?

Love is not merely an emotion—it is a force,

A tidal wave that reshapes landscapes, both within and without.

It erases boundaries, dissolves illusions, and births new worlds.

Imagine now standing at the edge of this transformation,

Where the known dissolves into the unknown,

Where the self merges with the infinite.

The trembling of your heart is not fear but awakening,

The shattering of old structures to make way for the new.

Tell me, traveler, what do you see in this altered state?

Do you walk through streets where shadows whisper secrets,

Or find yourself floating above rooftops, weightless and free?

Perhaps you wander through gardens where roses bloom endlessly,

Each petal carrying the fragrance of memories long forgotten.

Dreams and reality intertwine like threads in a tapestry,

Indistinguishable yet inseparable.

You no longer question whether what you see is real or imagined,

For you have come to understand that truth transcends such dichotomies.

Reality is fluid, ever-shifting, shaped by perception and desire.

Look now at the horizon, where sky meets earth—

A thin line separating consciousness from unconsciousness.

Here, in this liminal space, miracles unfold:

Memories resurface, faces reappear,

And fragments of past lives guide you forward.

Each moment births infinity, each breath holds eternity.

Do you recall the scent of rain-soaked earth,

The warmth of sunlight filtering through leaves?

These sensations linger in the recesses of the mind,

Echoes of experiences etched into the soul.

They remind us that beauty exists in simplicity,

That joy resides in the smallest details.

Yet, amidst the fleeting, there is permanence—

Not in objects, but in essence.

The song of the cuckoo lingers in spring air,

The taste of saltwater remains on sunburnt lips,

The touch of a lover’s hand lives forever in memory.

Such moments transcend time, becoming eternal.

But tell me, dreamer, what will you carry with you

When the final curtain falls?

Will it be regret for roads untaken,

Or gratitude for journeys completed?

Will you mourn the loss of youth,

Or celebrate the wisdom gained with age?

Death is not an end, but a threshold—

A doorway leading to realms unknown.

Just as rivers merge with oceans,

So too does the soul dissolve into infinity.

What fears can bind us when we realize

That we are already part of something greater than ourselves?

Imagine, then, crossing that threshold—

Leaving behind the familiar, stepping into mystery.

Will you meet ancestors waiting to guide you,

Or find yourself alone in boundless light?

Perhaps neither, perhaps both;

The truth eludes definition, defies comprehension.

Yet one thing is certain: love endures.

It flows through veins unseen, binds hearts unbroken.

Even in death, it remains—a beacon guiding us home.

For love is not confined to flesh and bone;

It transcends form, existing beyond the limits of mortality.

So let us live fully, love deeply, dream boldly,

Until the final hour arrives.

Let us cherish the ordinary, for it holds extraordinary grace.

Let us honor the earth, which sustains us,

And the sky, which inspires us.

Let us walk gently upon this sacred ground,

Leaving behind footprints of kindness, not destruction.

When the sun sets for the last time,

May we close our eyes with peace in our hearts.

May we leave behind a legacy of light,

So that others may follow in our footsteps,

Guided by the same eternal spark.

Thus, O lover, fear not the end—

For endings are merely beginnings in disguise.

Embrace the journey, savor the moments,

And trust that beyond the horizon,

A new dawn awaits, radiant and infinite.