(122) Pathik tumi ekakii ese
Traveler, You came alone In the wee hours when night jasmines[1] drop. Seeing my door closed, You stood beside the road. In sleep, muddled are my eyes. Some things I see; some things I see not. So, damp from the dew at end of night, You left at dawn, drifting off, inchoate. The jasmine creepers at my gate Convey Your message even now. As dewdrops evaporate, They remain alert for Your return. If at that time my door had been open, If a few words had been privately spoken, That autumn late night, in His melody alone, Floating aloft, I would have dissolved. |
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