At the end of the night, the place became very quiet. All that could be heard was the sound of water flowing from the small river behind the house, from the neighbor's expanse of bean and carrot gardens, the sound of insects and some frogs echoing faintly in response to each other as if they were filling the lonely night, the moon with its perfectly round shape so cheerfully lit up every day. The crevices of the dark corner of the room so that the shadows of the weeds were visible and swayed to and fro, carried by the night breeze, and suddenly the sound of tinkling cans colliding to scare away pests sounded so loud from my father's fish pond.
At the end of the night some people return to their beds and close their eyes to sleep, some seem to be dying because of being tortured by a nearly endless longing for the days that will never return. The punishment for lovers is nothing but burning in the fire of longing and jealousy. The night was getting colder, but so quiet. I remember what my mother said that "The hug of the night wind was sincere, even though it felt very cold."
With tears in her eyes, crying silently, Lucy whom I had promised to meet that night said, "Why is it so hard to forget?"
I said, “Because you love with all your heart. Believe that someone's departure is someone's arrival. Just be patient with God for a moment, one day God will send people who are very grateful to have and live with you.”
After I finished giving Lucy a little motivation, I invited Lucy to clear her mind by spending the night in a small hut near the lake. The night passed so quickly, but not for someone who was waiting, it would all seem so long. The cold night, the dark sky slowly faded away by the light of the sun. Morning came to greet, then greeted with human crowds during the day.
After attending a meeting at work, that afternoon, after a long journey, tired and hungry, forced Lucy and I to take a break at a roadside food stall near a red light.
In the middle the two of us were eating while occasionally chatting. When the red light came on, several vehicles lined up, from the side of the road an old man appeared, his appearance was almost no more filthy and messy than him, his long hair, which had partly turned white, looked unkempt, the white fur on his chest that was quite thick was visible from the sidelines of his clothes. Torn, which was starting to be shabby and wet with drops of sweat, his pants were black, had been torn and very worn, starting to turn white on one knee and a hole in the other knee so that his knee peeked out of his pants. A mix of sweat, heat, and dust worked together to add an unspeakable gloom to his tattered appearance like a street bum.
The old man walked up to everyone who passed by. I asked the owner of the restaurant.
“Mom, who is that old man?”
The shop owner's mother replied, "I don't really know you either. It's been more than a month like this. Approaching and whispering to passers-by”
"Whispering. Whispering what, ma'am? " I asked, curious
"According to the narratives of those who had approached him, the old man often whispered, "Be careful in loving from all your heart, Be careful in loving from all your heart, Be careful in loving from all your heart. "
"Replied the mother of the shop owner.
Seeing my friend Lucy who was heartbroken, hearing the story about the old man I felt their suffering. In my mind, I mumbled, “Loyalty that humans should give for love, but if they fail to do so. If people do not want to forgive each other, then love will only breed hate and suffering.”
The End
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