You may think that stone and crystal ice
Would stand solid. Here in this valley bowl
The haze opaquely cheats the eye, the whole
Frozen tableau takes on a blank disguise
That mocks my pilgrim camera. Patience;
Lo, suddenly the apparition gels.
I hear the mountains beam their decibels:
Sa Ri Ga Ma Pa Dha Ni: octaves away
The pealing anthem swells in symphony
Of stone and crystal ice. What joyful ode
From what Beethoven's Tenth! The peaks explode
And jab the tight calendar-shaming sky,
Like little children in a chorus on the dais.
My snap falls dead, the music knows its place.
- - - - - -
I was in Berne in the early 1960's.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem