The violin is melancholy, not hers

 
It was just the other day! I was wondering, who are you to me?
Want to hear what my foolish heart answered? It said,
That moon hanging there against the sky—that's you!
The evening raga spilling into twilight's lap—that's you!
You're the dewdrop fallen on grass blades! When that nameless
blue-throated bird beats its wings, then you come, you come!


You're the golden-yellow light on sunshine's body,
A white crane's feather sitting quietly still!
The red sun's tilaka laughing in the northeast corner,
A lamp pregnant with light, blackened by all-night burning.


You're the boatman Kuber's hut by the Padma's shore,
Some grey sandbar rising from the river's heart.
On cloudy days, the dim pull of a peacock's dance,
A song sung in cuckoo-voice even when the heart is heavy.


You're the weaver bird, the tailor-bird's tilt,
Kajla-didi's verses when she's drowsy at midnight.
The sudden fear that startles at a cloud's call,
Rain across the body with its splashing, splashing tune!


What happens to me happens to you too...
Do you also find me in everything you see?
Do you also have this scattered, fluttering heart?
Are you, like me, restless all the time?


My heart is terribly stubborn, won't listen to reason,
Always making demands to have you, any time, any season!
So many excuses that can't be spoken aloud,
Why is the heart like this? Why won't it stay tied down?


Look at this mess! See how my heart's grown so wild!
Come and give it a good hard slap, don't be mild!
Whatever I say to it, it won't sit anywhere,
Come close, sit beside me, make it understand, I swear!


How do you look when you're scolding someone?
Do your eyes turn red? Do you bite your lip and frown?
Do you speak loudly? Wave your finger about?
If I suddenly make you angry, will you hit me...as hard as you can, no doubt?


Oh, forget it! No words work, everything's upside-down!
Hold me tight, break this sulk, my heart's acting like a clown!
Give me just your little finger, I'll hook mine through!
If you don't stop being angry, I won't go home, it's true!


How I long to be the spool of thread in your heart's distant isle,
Build a thatched hut and spend lifetimes there, mile after mile.
All sixteen phases will be complete in this cherished life of mine,
I want nothing else, dear one, just you—that's my only design!