Chapter 111அதிகாரம் 111 ஏக்கம் Longing

She went and carried the sun’s heat; he stayed and carried the standing shade.

Close the eye that saw; inside the eye that no longer sees, the scar of what it saw is the dream.

Light a hundred lamps, and one place stays unlit: the place of the one who has not come.

The cracks of the parched ground listen for the language of the rain that forgot them.

The Tamil can also suggest rain that the land itself has forgotten.

She folds his shirt gently, and in the fold the warmth of his chest weeps.

People look for a time that has gone as if it were a place; they reach the place, and the time does not come.

A bangle gone slack declares, without slackening, the sorrow of the body gone slack beneath it.

Even with the finger let go, the feet do not forget the walk they learned on the earth with a finger to hold.

A small child first learns to walk by gripping a grown-up’s finger.

Even when the fire is out, the ash still burns; though you are gone, the heart you held in your embrace still burns.

The lute that is tuned longs when there is no hand to play it; the lute that is untuned does not long.