Don't Believe it's Love by Ana Zumani

I would never come to you, never, even though I know you're dying for me.

You've written that to me a thousand times, a thousand times I saw it in your macabre eyes.

In your eyes I saw how much you wanted me, but I had no reason to save you, none whatsoever.

I've abandoned you to your destiny, just likes thousands of men thousands of women they abandon to their own destiny.

But I finally came to you. The doctor told me that I had only one year left to live.

That's tragically too little for a woman that loves life so much.

All of a sudden I was able to see my whole being as it is and realized that only to you I'd like to give,

To give, to give, to give, like a fresh spring to the thirsty traveler.

Don't believe that this is Eros, or love, or something deeply personal.

It’s selfishness.

The pure selfishness of a dying organism wanting to become a memory in another.

Not to die for good, to vanish, to suddenly be erased, to be lost.

Today you've fully enjoyed the body that for years you longed for.

The more you enjoy me, the more you'll bring me back to life after my death, you'll rouse me.

You see, that will be my Resurrection, my Return.

Don't believe that this is love, I just want the most secure heart in which to go on living.

You are my monument, and that is all.

I've translated this from Greek. Image taken from here