The Season That Follows Passion by Yoshihara Sachiko (恋のあとの季節 / 吉原幸子)

There is a cat
Sitting very still
Watching the garden, the rain, the night
His face looks deep in thought
(Has he just remembered something?)

A cat can
Simply be
And that
Is gift enough for me

He trusts people and is content
If passion is hurting
And love is healing
Then this must be love
It isn’t passion
It’s the same with people
They hunger and desire
And when their sand castle is complete
The passion is over
But that is the beginning
Of love, full of silence

Passion, for people and for cats,
Is just a sickness in our pesky hormones,
He reflects, bittersweetly

He just stretches out all day long
But he’s still getting older
All of you will die in your turn
Will you bear it out?
Or . . . ?

You shut yourself up in the bedroom and lie down
But you want to be near somebody
So you scratch your nails on the wooden door
Skritch-skritch, skritch-skritch
Like trying to claw your way
Out from under the lid of a coffin
The way cats do


Original poem found at ポエムコンシェルジュとさがす詩の世界.


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