Oh, autumnal wind,
why bellow so hot
when no more leaves to fell?

Westerly wind sweeps
all dead wood into waterfalls,
I stand stubborn.

Between heaven and earth
I am witness to
apocalyptic snowfall.

Along with spring seeds
my child’s teeth-buds
blossom into pearls.

In stillness
I hear eternal harmony
attuned to the heart’s harp.

As hailstorm subsides
a lone oak stands out
wearing a white wooly shroud.

The snake slips away
giving my green eyes a slip.
What next, I shudder!

Opened this saffron card;
without a word my eyes became
a brimming lake .

I gather sprouts of rice:
reflection flickers in my heart’s lake
I get a stoop.

Whisper love in thirsty soil
it turns a blossoming spring
I play hot on my lone string.

The moon
muscling out of the clouds
rains down hailstones.

Oh, dreamlike flower valley,
a play of butterflies:
cresting hills.

Winter snow
cascades over windows
in milk-white waves.

Adieu! bright butterfly,
gone all green and gold:
no birds sing.

A hiss in the grass
a stunning shriek
I kiss my crescent cross.

Honeycomb
bees in cozy haven
smoke– bees run out for life.

My mother’s instinct
orders my love’s flow:
first, the most in need.

A traveler to nowhere—
but my immediate port:
to return to my source.

Even the waning moon
like my unrequited love
lies further far from my heart.

Wintery Night,
the chilled darkness
immune even to love’s warmth.
(Yayati)

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