Darkness

I open my eyes and see a dense mist, An uncovered gaze shadowed by tears. I could not see Matangi dancing. I hear the lament of the steadfast stars, A new melody holding a bouquet of roses in its hands. There stands your bracelet, motionless. Kalabati has wandered into the forest groves, And a longing awakens within me To paint the image of meditation. The master of love has gone to sleep. Blessed is the end of your sari, Though the night-flowering jasmine seems strangely out of place today. All the buds have withered Within the folds of leaves. A kadamba tree, heavy with the weeping Of a nineteenth-century gorilla, Stands burdened with sorrow. Yet the blossoms will still fall; And if the truth is spoken, The heart will tremble in astonishment.