Missing the way in the woods br I was afraid with anticipations. br But now I myself am lost in its vastness, br Its ferocity and loveliness in which I redeem. br br II br br So green and appetizing behind the mountains br Those block our way, br Whose apple plantation you hang in? br I see you past the snow-belt and the tormenting fire. br I see you diffused in the wet soil smell br And the promising summer, and sheltered under br A hot tin roof, I am all drenched because of you. br How sudden and silent were your foot-falls? br But so firm and assuring, I could not resist. br It happens to me always; I can’t resist beauty. br br Is it some erotic fantasy or the moment of fulfillment? br How is it that without touching the fruit br I feel complacent? br A lone traveller, in search of passionate intensity, br Since I don’t believe in possession, br I am not going to lose you. br It is enough to have met you on the razor’s edge. br br III br br Missing the way is my blissful weakness. br And how nice it is to miss the track br If it is to meet someone like you, full of life! br The way itself is exciting. br See, I have something of Don Juan in me, br And each time I fall, I keep nothing within. br But falling, I regain the strength to fall again; br For I feel full and ecstatic when I lose. br br Mine is top or the bottom. br I am sick of the dull middle path.