This noon of death I sleeved
Your figurine glittered, poured the all-acquired -
Slying veil of time, murky stellar dust
Depleted on a woman like you.
Tired feet stood on peripheries
Where the ephemeral few ignited
Their leases from their alienation
And heard distinct-discrete arias
Lurking unrest of time past , time you.
And amid such a feast of outsides
I saw immortality of raging sun.
The entangled blue of the sky, the star gestured galaxies
The still grasses of moondance - I indulge in entirely.
Even you're not the pause
Another terminal figure of abyss
Constantly melting to jostles , embracing
Ring of debris, dust and catharsis.
This familiar ephemeral noon , your figurine
Not submissive to the wrinkled tides
But time submits to you - you the death carrier
Silhouetted; today you are dead.
Translating Tagore. Again.
1 year ago