The Crush

Think not and say:

Who were we before?
Assuming life with many pretensions—
this loneliness and longing kill slowly.

Going along with this assumed decorum,
this will and self-willedness—
fed up with these restraints of life.
Let's do away.
Live, and like.



The other day, friends told
the same, same story:
"To be what you are not—
as faltering, is this life?"
They don't falter at small restraints,
walk triumphant walks.
Live and have,
and have and live.



I told them: I've a crush on someone,
and as a natural tendency,
shower unnatural feelings.
They told me: think not, act more.
Was the help not in their hands?

Yes. I think more and act less.
That's how I have a mundane life.
All is false in love—
for there is nothing wrong with loving.
This freak makes me weak.
I'm afraid I'll crash my own life,
the quick and deep.



Oh, come on, dear—
life is the same series.
Act away from trivial-trifling matter,
keep us going
with sparks.

Everyone will have a crush on someone, and it’s certain to human feelings; to love and appreciate someone. The poem asks the lover to get away with the decorum or institutions of what is called identity, live unbounded from the societies, and do whatever a mind says. Sounds like Andrew Marvell’s poem, "To His Coy Mistress," to "seize the day" - to make the most of today and not put off action until tomorrow.