A flute of black bamboo,
Murali calls and Time itself must freeze.
As flowers bend their ears
Strong winds relent,
Become a gentle breeze
And the cow-girls from the pastures
Gather round in gentle rapture
To hear your melodies.
Oh Krishna, fill our empty souls
With joy, they cry. Nor is the cobra,
poised to strike, immune.
It cannot harm, when held within
The charm of this oblivion.
Oh, Krishna, play your tunes of love!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I can feel this one could be a bit hypnotising, not just krishna's flute but the magic flute also. Nicely written Tom. Annette
Yes, I had that in mind too. I love Mozart! I came across this when I saw the Indian name, Murali and found out that it came from a bamboo flute used by the Hindu God, Krishna.