Darkness and the moon,
Silence and the tune,
Fighting with the other,
Loving one another –
Desperate, wholesome need
Satisfaction refrains to feed.
Green leaves against brown earth,
Your wet tears against his mirth –
Existing to live?
Something’s got to give!
There’s the lock! But where’s the key?
There you are, but I can’t find me.
Wings – Devil or hand of God?
Dust – freedom of sky or finality in sod?
Fislé nahí chalké
Kabhi dukh kí dagar pé
Thokar lagí – hans dé
Hum bas né válé díl ké nagar ké
Aré, har kadam béhak ké sambhal jáyé ré !
We walk on this road, dark and sad,
Which seldom let’s us slip and fall;
But if Fate throws us down and steals our right to be glad,
We, on our knees, shall laugh at its gall –
We, who live in the household of love, dear,
Can always stand after falling – never fear!
Kírné nahí apní
Toh hain báhö kí málá
Deepak nahí jinn mé
Únn galiyö mé hain hum sé újálá
Aré, dhool hí sé chánd níkal já yé ré !
There are no rays of natural light to call our own,
But there is this garland of my arms –
And though there are no lights on this bare road of stone,
It is all ablaze by our love’s charms.
The dust ahead itself grants a boon:
As through our love and its swirling mass, I spy our moon.
Pal schin, píyá, pal schin,
Ankhíyö ká andhérá
Réná nahí apní
Parr apná hogá kal ká savérá
Aré, rén könsí jö ná dhal já yé ré!
Each instant, love, each moment of time,
Depths of Darkness before our eyes!
Today’s evening is neither yours nor mine,
But ours will be tomorrow’s sunrise!
For tell me, sweetheart, which evening in the past,
Has had strength enough to make itself last?
If I were to stand on one side,
Opposed to the world and the ties that bind,
Which would you choose? Me or those?
What would my eyes see? What would my heart find?
Oracles in my life warned in vain:
‘Find one who knows his choice, one who knows to fight;
The one who knows what is dark,
One who can shield and yet guide you to the light.’
Choices, after all, are often heart-made;
And there was your face – you came to me as a better choice,
The gentle heart behind golden eyes,
No matter the length of years or lack of diligent voice.
The time was such.
But beginnings are always passionate, star-bright,
You used to bring me flowers,
Those hours of impatient wait, those miss-you nights.
But things change,
There is so much to write;
If only I could lose …
If only you could fight.
If I were to stand on one side,
Opposed to the world and the ties that bind,
I know what you would choose,
And your regret of what you leave behind.
22 January.
5am
Hearts Still Care 
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