I like that you’re not mad about me,
I like that I’m not mad about you
That the heavy globe of the Earth will
Not drift away beneath our feet.
I like that I can laugh—
With relief—and not play with words,
And not blush in a suffocating wave
When our sleeves touch.
I like that still you’re with me
That we can calmly hug one another;
I like that I will not end in the infernal fire
Burning, because I did not kiss you.
That you never used my tender name, not
Mentioned it, neither day nor night—in vain …
That we’ll never hear in the silence of a church
Them sing for us: Hallelujah!
Thank you with my heart and hand
For what you gave me—unknowingly!—
How you loved me: for my peaceful nights,
For the lack of looking at sunsets,
For our non-strolls in the moonlight,
For the sun, not being above our heads,—
Therefore you never were sad—alas!—Not for me,
Therefore, I never was sad—alas!—Not for you!