4. THE OAK AND THE REEDS
There stood an oak tree beside a stream,
Strong and stately its bark did seem;
It mocked the reeds that in reverence bent
E'en to the slight wind that past them went.
And the reeds as wont to the wind swayed,
And with silence the oak tree dismayed:
But the oak renewed its mockery
To make them look at it angerly.
And thus the vain oak tree bespake:
"No savage storm my state canst shake!
O reeds, weak am I not as ye are!"
And as it spake brewed a storm afar.
And to the storm that toward them sped,
"O what canst thou do?" the oak said.
So the storm dealt stroke after stroke
With savage force on the proud oak.
And not for long the oak footing found;
Soon humbled came it to kiss the ground.
But the storm spared the reeds, for they bent
With reverence as it past them went.
5. ODE ON A RECITAL
I understand not what I hear,
This music I am listening now;
They smoothly into my ears flow
With no hindrance from my being.
I shall not stop it,- never!
For none will to clip their heart's wing.
The mridangam doth unerring beat
To the long and short notes of the violin;
Time ceases, the notes increase - and I listen.
Will they ever? I want them to end;
From mine interior self retreat,
Lest its sweet charm to sweetlessness tend.
Here the music hath died away
And I yearn no more for more -
Not that I shan't taste if they restore
This charm, but that I am content
With sweet memories of the lay.-
The clock ticks, and now for more I'm bent.
6. NATURE'S ACQUIESCENCE
The flowers' sweet fragrance
Carried by a pleasant breeze
Took the bees unaware
And sent them into a trance.
By the buzzing of the queen bee
The bees from their sleep they woke
To carry the pollen to the stigma
And receive nectar as a fee.
From the hive the queen bee eyed
The strangeness of a kindly flower
That gave its secretion to a bee
And sent it out with wings dyed.
The queen bee to keep their secret still,
Flew from its hive in pensive mood
And destroyed that exotic flower
Which had gained their unique skill.
To the flower that lay deprived
Of its short but lovely life,
I sang a requiem too long
To set my mind reprieved.
7. SLEEP
I stand alone and grope in the dark
No candle to illumine the room,
My fingers feel the black black thread
Which is to the ceiling tied,
And I strike the match...
And light the uncaptive end.
There's light now and I see
The cot where I cherish to lie;
And there I lie and see now
The flame in intermittent furies ascend.
There's no wind to save the thread
And the thread nears its end...
And the flame gets extinguished.
I lie alone...
In the dark...
But I can sleep now.
Previous/
HOME/
Next
