this good will,
where will this lead?
To a beautiful garden full of roses,
or to a deserted landscape?
The euphoria of nothing
the excitation of everything
how long will it last?
What is that in the other end of the tunnel,
is it a star or a firefly?
What is there in store for tomorrow?
Is it eternal happiness
or an endless sequence of grievances?
This pleasant haze of confusion
will it eventually clear?
What will be seen then?
That this was a blunder, a guised one
that it was a castle in the sky.
The sweet words glued in the ear
will they pierce the heart tomorrow,
like the thorns, the guised ones?
The crude expressions that drive the world to oblivion,
the chats on nothing lasting for hours,
the arguments with no purpose
the tussles with no conclusion,
what will all of these matter tomorrow?
Will the memories be sweet altogether
Or will the bitterness overcome the sweetness?
How long will be the distance that is now zero?
Will that grow to infinity?
In which corner of mind will the image reside
that now occupies the whole of it?
What of the long silences,
that now speak more than any volume of words?
What of the gestures
that now mean more than any length of conversation?
Yes, this bonhomie,
will it be remembered like this forever?
Will this carry the same pleasantness for ever?
The inexpressible sense of content,
the inarguable sense of perfection
the ingratiating fervor of satisfaction.
Will this remain the same for ever?
I wish so,
Even though doubting it from the outset.