are in a cheerful mood.
So, just get outside.
When arrogance eclipses love
We rambled in Katmandu,
temples and temples along.
No novelty after India.
Visualizing ourselves
as pundits – whether
Sanskrit, Pali12,
Buddhism, Hinduism —
we were on top of them,
talking to “inanimate” objects.
Merely later, we became
ashamed, this was when.
The main Stupa13.
The all-seeing eyes —
animated, though painted —
of the all-powerful Buddha
were looking to the four
sides of the horizon.
Hugging one another,
we led the conversation,
“You know us, the Great,
make us the absolute best
of the lovers
who lived on the Earth.”
The response, “Firstly, restrain
the arrogance,” struck us
as a harsh electric charge.
He remained confident.
We started shaking
on bent knees before him,
then stomped away,
of course, we forgot why
we had come there —
to spin mantras14 and make
our wishes come true.
For the whole day and night
we refused to utter a word.
Buddhist love
We’d seen dozens
of Buddhist places —
so many others…
Became hundredfold
kind-hearted.
Not one love
Not one love but two
build an ardent affection.
Two wonders of the world coincided
Taj Mahal,
the seventh wonder of the world,
is in Agra,
where studies my lover,
the eighth wonder of the world.
Separately, they dazzle shining.
Together, a celestial allure,
they picture a star
framed by the Moon.
How cannot you start
believing in wonders now.
Every night in the hostel
In my student cell —
a bed and nothing else —
I drop off to sleep
in anticipation of meeting
the distant you.
Without such a date,
it is to be a monk
without a prayer.
I fall asleep.
But…
a balloon of apparitions
inflates twenty minutes,
and here’s a rainy season —
how will it fly off?
That’s the balloon’s business.
Now! I drink from the spring
of a rendezvous – the sitar17
of your lips – like yesterday,
like the night before.
The sitar recognized the musician,
began to play a monsoon
melody about high love.
The tune took us
on the lightest sari away
to the Southern point of India,
where we’ve been recent.
The same blue waters
of the ocean, our dolphin
frisks around
when it has seen us.
The lunar path, by moving
waters apart, drove
a tunnel along the bottom
where we go to our
angel – the dolphin.
It grants you a giant pearl.
We return to the coast,
and on the melody of lips
fly to our places —
you to the West,
me to the East.
Afterward, you’ll send me a letter:
you’ve found an enormous pearl.
Twilight at the pond
Twilight is satiated
with the stillness of the fall.
The crimson of leaves
frolics on the pond.
Energy and a breeze,
spring and trees,
you and me
need each other.
A catchy tune
sticks around.
Not now. Not really.
I’m pleased with it.
The Deity and a hermit,
the world and its poet,
you and me
need each other.
I can’t finish a letter
because of the tune.
Nothing but to seal
and send it to you.
Fantasy and art,
rhythm and my heart,
you and me
need each other.
The colors of our love
The destiny of Rajasthan18 is a desert.
A few marble cities
are the mirages of diverse colors:
blue