In the wall-less wide dusty yard,
My heart urged to be amused,
But I found nothing around,
And would play with toyless hands.
Standing in middle of the drawn ring,
I moved my body round and round,
Stretching arms like a Turkish dervish,
Who tends to gain ecstatic heights,
Till made me giddiness thumping fall.
Lay I with forcefully opened eyes,
Watched the trees, houses and ricks,
Running around making sacred circles,
As if I were the pivot of the world,
And all they the tributing pilgrims.
The figures then slowed, slowed down,
I rubbed my eyes and pondered finding,
The circling objects standing still,
Ah! At the discovery I was shocked,
By the circling world I was mocked.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem