Ghanghor ghata jab chhaati hai
Moron ka man harshaati hai
Tab apni khushi dikhaane ko
Man ka ullaas bataane ko....

Moonlight slanting
through the bamboo grove;
a cuckoo crying.


Translated by Robert Hass

The stars around the fair moon fade
Against the night,
When gazing full she fills the glade
And spreads the seas with silvery light.

Dreaming in moonlight
feather brush the pounding surf
kissing stars goodnight


(Previously published in Borders and Time, March 2000)

Still as
On windless nights
The moon-cast shadows are,
So still will be my heart when I
Am dead.

Its spirit leans like a thin hook
or opens round like a Han-loom fan,
slender shadow whose nature is to be full,
seen everywhere in the human world.

Farewell! 'But not for ever,' Hope replies,
Trace but his steps and meet him in the skies!
There nothing shall renew our parting pain,
Thou shalt not wither nor I weep again.

Mount! I have watcht thee, at the fall of dew,
Array thee in thy panoply of gold,--
And then cast over it thy rosy vest,--
And last that awful robe that looks so cold,
Thy ghastly spectre--dress of nameless hue:
Then thou art least of earth, and then I love thee best.

Let me be monosyllabic to-day, O Lord.
Yesterday I loosed a snarl of words on a fool, on a child.
To-day, let me be monosyllabic . . . . a crony of old men who wash sunlight in their fingers and enjoy slow-pacing clocks.

Mon coeur triste, mon coeur amer,
Mon coeur est pareil à la mer
Qu’un flux et qu’un reflux déploie.
Des vagues y roulent aussi :
Celles qui s’en vont sont ma joie.
Celles qui viennent mon souci !