I was born on this day,
Quarter century old,
Time's scythe takes hold
Around years, months on the 5th May,
And the hot summer pay
For the cake gold,
Lies which in barn to be sold,
While sandy swirls make hay.
Thank thee O summer,
Only thou show passion for the child;
Arriving like the flower late,
Becomes who then a dreamer,—
Summer flower; without singlest trace wild,
Oh! The flower with unflowery fate!
Had I known the time
When the sleep came
Over me like the name;
Thou great mystery infinite!
With that instant to ignite,
I could light a small rhyme:
First maiden to be kissed firstly,
Or, ye lightening sky briskly
To quench the thirst of yore
Eagerly awaiting the first downpour.
Me doth but fail,
Like a disappointed lover hail
The start of love days:
Gaze first, first meet,—
Time caught in crazy ways,
Again but sadness beat
Its unlyrical, unrhymed tomber,
Lost is that instant
In noise huge of the bomber.
Aha that contemplative inward time!
Body when reaches its prime;
In harmony with mind, writes a rhyme,
Illusions not, but reality shine.
Aha that divine perfect position!
No couple ever found such satisfaction,
Every part stimulates loveliest reaction,—
Soul sends such vibration.
Aha that obliviousness to deflected reality;
Self-truths forced for social duty,
This but is the true beauty,
Simple, straight without sociality.
Aha that becoming part of the whole!
Where individual plays no role,—
Still, a huge stage with character sole,
And that possibility with single pole.
Aha that sudden cosmic struck!
When the ultimate crisply lurk,
And falsely hard-worked walls jerk,
Transform these into heavenly arc.
Aha that golden light inside head!
Beats which the dark dead,
Infinite facets cut the fad
To a glittering diamond on something dead.
Aha that helplessness of senses!
Struck which through the tenses,
Come they now across the fences,
Liberate which infinity in His ranches.
Aha that time of being with the being!
And seeing too much without seeing,
Crowning moment of the body's king;
Yes! Soul triumphant, possessively sing.
There walks the winner; triumphant
Shine of sweat on the brow,
Once he almost gave up, now buoyant
Bosom swells solid for the morrow.
There is the loser's bent head,—
Eyes which once sparkled, dropped dead;
Unnoticed, uncared to destiny's glad;
Bosom hunched back and example bad.
Who makes this greatest loss?
The difference between winning and losing,
Is it deciding time's momentary chaos?
Or those long hours found no time moving.
Branded two species; unmatching,
Aah! That even after single hatching.
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?
