Classic Poem

What a season's here!
rainbowing the earth,
driving hares mad,
bees buzzing and the birds restless,
lightning in the sinews
and commotion in the heart.

So it was
in creation's primeval dawning,
in the waves' first heaving,
when the first lamps were lit;

the moment when
Shiva opens his closed lids
and Gauri's blush reddens the Himalayan peaks;

or when
the lump of Vikram's heart
stirred
at the first glimpse of Urvashi,
the sun at a standstill —
look now!
— like a wound above the sunset peaks.

A butterfly dances
(soul of a liberated sage),
taking this earth rich in honey
for heaven.

The titillated dove
speaks what's in its heart —
saffron-love for the whole world.

We have all gone through the white gates
of branches hung with plum blossoms,
we have sat with fairies in the story-world
where buds can speak.

The air is stirring,
heavy with scattered fragrance.
Bunched-up hearts are itching to let go
and fling out sweet-scented worlds.