Classic Poem

I don't think I'm being manipulated.
But to do something one can't do anything about
as if by one's own will
is comical, sad, and yet peaceful.
While lying by you like this,
waiting for our breathing to calm down,
there's no way of thinking about things like love.
What were they —
those smooth, hot, and endless things?
Just because those odd things touched each other,
even my heart relaxed and breathed deeply,
my eyes looked at the starless darkness,
my ears heard moans that could not form words,
and I was about to melt and cease to be,
when you became unfathomably gentle and rich,
and in the void where any relation between persons doesn't catch up,
the very first thing of this world,
trying to be born, spurted out of me.
Out of this total silence now
what can I begin to say?
I simply rise to my feet in the darkness, for a glass of water.