Passenger in the Wrong Compartment

  
 Silent, mute sandbanks—ancient.
 Whispers of wind's trail—unbroken.
 Thousands of star-kingdoms—among their throng flickers the flame of the moon-lamp.
 The forest dresses in some strange form—that deep night-daughter loses her way and stops, stunned!
 Fierce moonlight! In its blessing the night blooms with awakened youth—eyes cannot bear to look, cannot bear to turn away!
 At the stone ghat a boat lies moored—broken; no boatman, yet passengers remain.
  
 Listen, do you hear?
 She suddenly turns back,
 and laughs at once...a spark!
 Suddenly that laughter floats away in the current...there, far off.
 In my eyes then, the fierce wind of whirlwind speed.
 All this I see yet do not see, forget yet suddenly remember. But why?...I lack even the courage to ask!
  
 You know, I long so much
 to suddenly embrace you,
 quietly rest my face against your chest and watch you sideways—
 let all silence come and fall face-down upon your chin.
 Lips turned, cheeks puffed,
 I'd throw a tantrum at midnight—
 will you take me in your lap?...listen, I'm telling the truth, nothing else!
 One day you'll touch and see that grass's dew, and walk there,
 when I laugh touching your cheek,
 you'll touch your lips to my ear and say softly, smiling,
 this...I love you! I love you!
  
 One life—many stories, many backs turned.
 When you finally say—I love you,
 it feels like nothing but sharp mockery!
 My self, my soul—you never see them, not even by mistake.
 You love my eyes, I know.
 They're awake because I'm alive, isn't that so, tell me?
 Yet how much pain these eyes conceal, you never understand!
 Isn't this mockery, tell me?
  
 I've heard in secret, many times,
 love has intoxicated you countless times!
 Enchanted by a sixteen-year-old's nectar-dropping smile,
 in whispered silence, in secret love, you composed immortal lines of love.
 How the cup of a young girl's lip-nectar bewilders,
 in that drunken love lies so much honey,
 can one know without loving well!
 The eyes' form burns illusion in spring fire when you walk before me!
 Does the sight of water ever quench a desert wanderer's thirst, tell me?
 Let there be no such infinite restlessness, limitless depths,
 yet like tormented sand, hungry youth begs for thirst's water!
  
 O my carnivorous lover,
 you have exposed me in dense darkness of the open monsoon,
 etched kiss-wounds on stems, bitten along my ribs!
 Can a man ever know—
 how much secret weeping lies buried in every laughing, happy woman!
 These lips, how blue they turn with pain before embracing you closely in kisses—have you ever kept track?
 You are a man, you bind me in such mockery,
 like a blind snake you seek holes even in darkness!
 This body like heaven's stairway,
 you climb those stairs as you please—yet say with your mouth, I love you!
 You tell me, how can one who spends her days in mockery love well when night falls?
  
 At story's end, every story—
 never truly ends,
 some stories remain such—
 at story's end the lingering actually grows intense!
 On that rain-soaked day,
 in sorrow's room,
 for just a brief moment
 coming as a guest to good spirits...
 Just as nature adorns itself,
 just so—
 life's rain turns through monsoon
 to reach autumn time!
  
 With this, cool-sweet wind
 sets body and mind trembling!
 Light and shadow's intoxicating spell—forgets everything!
 In light only dark shadows,
 how rain dances in each maya-filled drop—
 there I see playing my beloved's face!
  
 Solitary evening—old.
 Through slipping window two still eyes fly in sky,
 one cup of coffee; in wrapped warm steam—soft conversation with innocent eyes—this is life!
  
 Life's sky—flies false lanterns,
 mostly deception—the heart is happy though!
 When time ends, time returns,
 bringing awareness with it.
 I'm always late, always late—today,
 seeking sun at evening, moon at noon.
  
 Say one day, if I truly paint love—not with brush but with heart—could you bear it? Wouldn't the deep river of your eyes suddenly dry that day?
 Losing conscience in great anger, would you paint that day a very long picture of hatred?
 Paint if you will, I'm not afraid. What more can burn these burnt eyes? I'll endure it well!
  
 I—
 had made a mistake...
 guarding the door,
 at midnight I wanted—
 dew-wet dawn...
 in weary mind—
 to wet my hair.