She made me cup my hands, softly
over her heaving full *******, a gesture,
a tender moment when she received
the first intimations of her motherhood,
we were awaiting, this moment, any time
she never had known a tenderness like this.
Just then I heard the billowing black clouds
loudly blowing their auspicious conch shells *
announcing arrival of good tidings
impatient clouds, at that time burst out
in torrential rains, cooling the heart of nature and us.
the seed I planted in her, fecund earth, lying in wait
with her life blood and hopes
she too was lovingly watering it,
only a mother knows how to do it the best,
the water flowed through two streams
the milky way and the holy Ganga river
fiery star dreams and watery abundance
the mother's wish embrace ice and fire
in measures varying according to emotions.
Lifted my eyes to hers which were flooding
in a happiness, words find difficult to express,
like tender vines her hands circled my trunk,
we, man and wife who sowed our seeds
together in self oblivion are on immortality's steps!
wind, water, earth, fire and space, from you comes
our descendants, with eager eyes and singing voice!
This union, is a ritual divine, what hymns of Vedas
extol as fire sacrifice, to transcend the limits time set for us.
Now she is the enchantress,moon coming out of clouds,
we merge in a passionate kiss, our boat moves in to the
cosmic stream, a flow eternal,without beginning or end.
*.In India, blowing conch shell is considered auspicious in special occasions
