O traveller, why lookest thou ahead road,
grave and speculative,
Depriving your eyes such a beatific sight,
See the angelic form that standeth behind
that window curtain,
Come, wait, sit beside me, it’s worth waiting,
We both will sing in praise of her
And linger until she uplifts the curtain.
You say it’s purposeless
Isn’t it the reason our maker gives us eyes?
Isn’t it the purpose of our mind’s evolution
to sing and hail the beauty; at least of her.
You won’t believe my word? Impertinence!
You will be blinded by her shadow
spare her presence; “stare not for long”,
What? You say it exaggeration…
If beauty is not exaggerated
where lies its charm.
Look! her shadow moving, she is
growing impatient as if getting
late to meet her lover.
Yes, she wins heart in a look
and crushes it in a blink and wins again
Monarch sleeps in her bed
Life in right, Death in left hand; she possess,
Judiciary in closet
And warriors in purse.
Countries bow, world kneel, universe supplicate
Stop! Where thou going?
Pardon these adynatons,
I’m drunk in her beauty.
Let us sing then, I’ll lead, you follow
Flowers wilting in chilled air,
Waiting clouds to part
To have a look fair,
Do see the restlessness in that room?
I can sense her ***** heaving, repressed
sighs, and her fingers twisting, twirling
It must be a lover
who invented song, isn’t it?
A gloomy firefly in this starless sky
Searching his lover
Who has lost the light,
Wait not moon, rise, help him
In his plight…
Look! look! The curtain is drawn
There she, my sovereign,
don’t mistake her eyes for stars.
Have a profound look, but not too long;
this witnesses only fortunates.
What? you lost your vision-
But I warned you earlier.
Now who’ll testify I saw her?