My Love Will Come

1 May 2013
10:24 PM
Manila

M.—

I am drifting off to sleep. I can’t recall what I did during the day. Survived the heat wave, I suppose. At times it felt like a heavy blanket. Other times—

Ah, but I forget what I was going to say.

I woke up to rain around four this morning. In my mother tongue, we call this unang ulan ng Mayo, or agua de Mayo. Our elders believe that the first rain holds some kind of healing power. If you bathe in it, it will cure all ills, make you healthier, stronger. Some think it is a signal that one’s luck or fate is about to change, that rain is a sign that summer—or drought—is over.

I think it’s about time, and I am waiting for more.

Here is something I can remember—a poem and an old love, while reading a book:

“My love will come…”
Yevgeny Yevtushenko
Translated by Albert C. Todd

            To B. Akhmadulina

My love will come,
will fold me in her arms,
will notice all the changes,
will understand my apprehensions.

From the pouring dark, the infernal gloom,
forgetting to close the taxi door,
she’ll dash up the rickety steps
all flushed with joy and longing.

Drenched, she’ll burst in, without a knock,
will take my head in her hands,
and from a chair her blue fur coat
will slip blissfully to the floor.

Off to sleep now. Ólafur Arnalds’ And They Have Escaped the Weight of Darkness will follow me to my dreams.

Good night.

Yours,
T.

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