The sacred rites
They with the barefoot feet
Walked round and round
And chanting.
The moon was rising
Before the white stars
The lake was glistening
Rays even passing through high bars!
And in spite of the night
The weird silence relative and
The bats' hoarse cries
The sacred rites
They with the barefoot feet
Walked round and round
And chanting.
They said.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem closes in on itself which is appropriate because sacred rites are too fragile to be subjected to scrutiny by the merely curious. Those who do not sense the -shhh of the worshippers can only disrupt and distort the event. But those who have open minds and receptive hearts, those are the ones who are welcome to join in the ceremony .They will be enlightened by the three-fold experience of visionary light - first the sheen of the glistening white lake, secondly the light of white stars punctuating the stark, dark sky, and finally the perfect white glow of the moon. This enlightenment transcends language and dogmas and imprints itself directly on the souls of the worshippers.