As monsoon clouds recede to rest awhile
in unseen vaults of an ever changing sky,
Kash flowers look up to the glowing Moon
for pegs of dew-wet beams from the high
like white spires of magic towers raising
heads of glory above ridges of sands dry;
it seems their lips are soggy with kisses
from an Autumn Moon that ignites
white flames of desire
in heart of the Earth for an amorous Sky!
But walking across the dry banks of the river
we miss the rippling smiles of those flowers
cast on blue waters that once drove the Moon crazy
to descend to watery dens for secret bowers;
their sighs merge now into whines of a sad wind
that in cracked hearts of rice fields do resound
whereto stray cattle instead of farmers are bound
for endless grazing of yellowing hay all around!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
endless grazing, very fine sir, namaskar