Eyes of the stars are
on the wings of the fireflies.
Guess who is marching
in the moonlit night?
The moon rows down
on to the river.

Has the Huri squeezed
out of the gem packed
tight door of paradise?
Basked out on the gripping
bank of the Sal Sabila River,
only to spill a heady perfume
drop down on the stunned
awestruck silhouetted night?

The eve has long gone far
to wear a khol of this
mesmeric shady contour!
No one, not even you
will want to miss the peak.
Where it all begins with
the tuberoses riding the wind.