See the kite's sway in the sky:
Papered soul pulls for escaping fly,
Corded attachment but to the earthly;—
The life force to its limits finally.
The will of the soul for free float,
Alas! Possible only jerks lot,
Till the last drop hot,
The instinct, the desire leaves not.
And the momentary penury released,
As if to get the prisoner appeased,
What a beggar the besieged!
Pious but still teased.
Yes, broken at last! That wondrous free flight,
Alas but until fall for earthly delight.
Summer hast arrived
As all the spring flowers begone;
When so many smiles shone,
Sun brighter now; perfume fried :
Flowery dust lie buried,
Small whiff and even that gone;
Scented maiden's ashes thrown,
Sis's dusty reaches get seed.
Silver Goddess sweetly hiss
Upon everything from leaves to tongues:
Dry leaves' short sway;
Discharmed lips open to kiss
The lost perfumed songs;—
Spring doth seem so far away.
Little houri! When I saw
Thou for the first,—
Morning star in the horizon east,
Fought which night's awe,
To change my morning's law.
And there I was standing wonderstruck,
Pondering, now when sky has been recast,
Dost this new star takes row
To shine for me during the day?
Sun's light I have'd enough,
What dost this new celestial angel creates?
There I was cajoling my new ray,
The lips parted for a laugh;
O my ears, what heaven narrates?
Death, when thou'll come,
I don't know how'd I feel,
O thou destroyer of life's zeal,
Thou keep perfect mum,
So many noises fall upon thy ears dumb,
Thus, nobody knows how to deal
With the deaf host gulping last meal;
Listening not to prayers and Godly hymn.
O thou majestic unknown hunter,
So certain is thy grip on the prey
That lifelong we prepare ourselves as food thine,
And thou quickly saunter
Over the eyes with last ray,
Death, how you'd stamp mortality mine?
Wispy summer bides a hesitating bye,
As nature's law forces exile
To the other hemisphere, along Nile,
Awaits which eagerly hot fairy's sigh,
That tropical ever-greenery doth wry
Over the cool lover gone vile;—
Makest love too much in spring's guile,
Over-bred, she calls thou with a cry.
Thou but autumn-stricken here:
Pine for these dew rainy nights
Over the winter flowers already sown,
Like a mother thou fear
Warmly for children left alone in cold's delights,
And with a fleecy sob thou moan.
Autumn, thou stand betwix
The summer and the winter,
Still, like divinity thou mix
Contradictions: The soul and the matter.
Summer still warms during the day,
As, takes it paddy to its youth,
Winter too sneaks in after the sun's last ray,—
Dew almost rains to water their mouth.
Summer's last ripening and windfall;
Last gift to that lonely little lass,
Looking eagerly into some tree tall,
'What'd I offer', the winter guess.
Autumn, thou save that farmer from weather bite,
Which the two extremities try to force by fight.
Look how the night milks
The whole landscape spread infantly,
Like a mother breastfeeding her child gently,
And everything hazy eyed by winy maternal sips,
Vow! O moony night thy motherly lips
Kiss the sleepy panorama; the mother saintly
Strokes everything lying in her lap faintly,
O sleepless mother thy head never trips!
Look how whitish the love bathes the shadows!
Aura such that even ghosts seem friendly,
What fear has to do near love such,
Thus, every soul opens all its windows,
So that mother's light enter grandly,
And still she never finds it too much!
