The scattered sweat of darkened arches

 
I sit upon the rooftop. All around, a hazy darkness.
Above my head, a demon sky vast as a world, slowly devouring me...
Its chest pierced through with the glittering dress of countless stars.


The brightest star in this sky stares straight at me.
It seems to have learned this shameless habit from you,
and so it gazes at me with such unblinking eyes.


Every now and then the southern wind brushes against me, making me drunk.
It seems to have grown quite mischievous, just like you,
touching me with one wayward caress after another.


A moon like a whole plate. In the sky.
Another moon touched with love's magic. In my room.
The sky's moon burns with envy, seeing the moon in my room!


Not far away, a whitish house. I can see
a pair of doves on the balcony, busy with their twilight flirtation.
Ah, what intoxicating love! I've watched, and
desire stirs in my heart, jealousy trembles, I long so much for my moon's caresses!


Ah, how would it be if you were beside me at such a time!
To hold me close with such tenderness! To brush the hair from my forehead, lift my chin and kiss me!


If you were truly here beside me,
would you rest your head in my lap and scold that moon?
Or would you pluck a poem from that sky and recite it sweetly to make things right?


What are you doing now? Are you busy?
Touching your lips to a coffee mug, brushing away the steam perhaps?
Or are your fingers constantly tapping the laptop keys with their clicking sounds?
What color is your shirt? Is it loose? Or tight-fitting?
A lungi? Or three-quarters like the English sahibs?
One leg over the other? Or side by side? Or is your left leg folded on the chair while your right leg sways? Or are both dancing on the floor?
Poetry in your head? Or a story? Or just some stray thoughts that have come?
Have you started? Or are you about to, about to, procrastinating? Or won't you write at all today? Or have you already written it, and now you're reviewing the draft?
Are you occasionally twirling your hair around your right index and middle fingers while thinking?
Or are you doing none of these things, simply sitting? In your rooftop garden perhaps?
Is your heart melancholy? Who peeks into your mind? Me...or someone I don't know?


Oh, if only it could be so,
that I could touch you whenever I wished!