The night descends
draping a blanket of calm
over the cares of the day.
I lounge amidst those earthly stars-
the deciduous,flickering fireflies.
The wind meekly blows,
the night lies silent,expectant
like a child for a story
before it sinks its head in the pillow.
And so I bring out my flute.
And no mere flute,this of mine.
Carved of the finest ivory,
enchanted in the ages bygone,
this flute that can sway the heavens
acquiesces to be touched by my lips.
Touched by a whiff of melancholy,
the flute guides me to play.
It lends me one of its memories.
As my fingers dance nimbly,
the flute and I bring back a forgotten lay.
The song floats higher
and the Moon leans in to hear.
Memories take shape,music takes forms
and the people long past
walk and sing and live once more.
Among them shines one the brightest-
A boy of low birth,
a boy loving and shy,
tender-hearted and frail
yet a boy who never cried.
Many sorrows he has known
and even more deaths seen.
His father killed,sisters ravaged,
his mother and home lifeless.
Yet never a tear did he shed.
No living soul knew his pain;
no pitying glance thrown his way,
this little boy of innocent age
carried his heavy heart
till his hope-bereft eyes fell upon a flute.
This very same that I now hold
had become a companion to him
and cried in his stead.
All his torments poured out
like a flood into a tune.
The boy went on playing
while his mother's life ebbed.
The flute went on singing
even when the little fingers went cold,
Lamenting;drawing air from his very last breath.
Memories dissolve into the night
The people walk back to the past.
The flute and I play the lament still.
Serenity prevails within me,notwithstanding.
A curious serenity,with a touch of sorrow.
The Moon starts weeping
and sheds tears of twinkling stars.
I catch them in a crystal phial
and stopper it with a dewdrop;
a talisman to dispel my nights.
******
I spill a few drops every now and then.
Where they touch the earth,flowers bloom
that are tender and white and star-like,
that shine their radiance in the night.
People call them Elinthé,'Tears of the Moon'.
Tears of the Moon(First Version of Elinthé)
When the night falls,
Draping a blanket of calm
on the day's worries and cares
and dulling the pains of life,
I sit alone and lonely
Lounging amidst those earthly stars-
the deciduous,flickering fireflies,
yearning for some company,
for a gentle caress of comfort,
pining for a warm embrace.
I play my sorrows on my flute
voicing my woes on mournful notes.
The night remains silent,
the breeze but timidly blows
and the Moon lends an ear.
Melancholy never vents through tears
but seeps in making the soul writhe.
Seeking a token of sustaining hope,
I pour out my misery into the night,
my flute lamenting for me.
And when the Moon weeps for me,
crying tears of twinkling stars,
I will catch them in a crystal phial
and stopper it with my aching heart.
A gift to myself; to lighten my night.
