Birds are drinking waters of sorrow, sleeping in the dawns of my memories –
Naked children, sitting on shores of green grass are playing Shehnai with Lotus stumps,
Drunk with dreams of spring, brooks are calling brooks
Trees are calling trees
And the entire system of nerves of universal space is vibrating with joy.
The boy moon, who was crying climbing on the clouds, poured out moonshine on huge landscapes –
The life aroused by man in the flute was expressing its agony in a thousand octaves –
Storms of sunsets, storms of flowers, arrived and camped there,
The world of life coursing in the arteries, hanging in the globe of black grape, shining like a nipple,
Is inviting the archipelagos of stars to descend to earth.
Little naked child Ganges ,
Led to bed by the Himalayas,
Away from the equator was sleeping
in the sands between the shores , like a folded book,
the moment first ray of dawn touched her
she turned into water and fled away.
Amavasya , the pot – bellied night of stars dropped into its mouth ,
Even the last slice of moon.