Beautiful is the moon, just before
The night of full moon. Specially if
One can watch it late at night or
Early morning in the western sky.
I opened the back door hoping to
Catch a glimpse of super yellow moon.
Dawn is still in night's cozy cradle,
And sound of traffic is almost dead.
Mystical is serenity of darkness but
Moon is nowhere is to found.
The clouds have stepped in late night
To hide celestial beings in gray sky.
I felt the touch of soft raindrops. By the porch
Light, rain is cascading in thin silvery streaks.
though not violent enough to disturb the trance of
Majestic bare oaks or bloom of slumbering daffodils.
Even in the quietness of night
Sound of rain is barely audible.
I came to bed with an awakened self
Attentive to the mild tapping of water.
Today it is Holi celebrated in India. A jubilant
Festival of splashing colors upon each other,
And sharing of food. Night before it, the bonfires
Are lighted everywhere around neighborhoods.
Aroma of green garbanzos roasted upon
Burning wood and laughter of merry crowd
Dancing and singing around fire signals a joyful
Spirit of community celebrating spring equinox.
all this seeped out of childhood memories
To mingle with fresh and soothing sounds
Of raindrops sliding upon the windowpanes,
Dripping from rooftops and bare tree branches.
I stayed awake relishing the whispers of rain and
Of sweet memories breaking the barriers of time.
Was the magic of night lost before the sleep took
Over against my wishes? I couldn't tell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem