Till then,

Soon there would be fabulous
nip in the air and mist would soon
Envelope empty spaces betwixt us,
Till then come we commemorate
The Fall with our songs and masquerades.

a spell of rain and twilight

after a spell of rain
twilight came,

surfeiting so
that a poem
thought I
made a surge,

across the indefinite
October sky,

knowing the moment
would soon away fly,

dipped the self and the eye
into the grandeur of life,

it was no doubt a deliberate act
to getaway from all oft beaten tracks,

it was no doubt a formidable task
to catch the colors of a sobered dusk,

the same colors that had made several
to sing with ease for the long lost grail,

the same feeling that had made one too many
to find in prosaic things forgotten epiphanies,

after a spell of rain
the twilight came
surfeiting so.

Who can more blessed be?

Who can more blessed be than us, mate?
The morn hath broken free in us, of late,
Through the mist of the city that sleeps embowered
Into timeless elegance of Love that took over
Us all the time, this season of wonderous spectacle,
Who can more blessed be than us, tell?
We can rise to the morrow of our own wanderings
We can with throatful ease cause the spring's second coming,
We can sing as sings the nightingale within us,
We can hold the fabulous time and let it not pass,
Who can more blessed be than us?
Whence we can pour inkful hearts by music thus?

Colloque

Can't give away anything
Other than those simple colloquial things,

A tranquil presence of unstirred hope,
A garden green, a mountain slope,
A bunch of nameless wild flowers,
A flight of birds through lighted showers,
A stream murmuring its way through a forest
A spectacle serene by calm of heart blessed,

Can't give away anything
Other than those simple colloquial things.

On leaves and dews

To that hues of leaves
Take me once,
Just for once
Let me there ruminate
For every leaf I wish to see
Turned flowery,
For on every leaf
I wish to see
Drops of dew
Emerald.

Sing the song of mirth*

Sing the song of mirth, heart
For the autumn has brought home the guest;
The silent words of sky azure
The dewy longing which lures
Today in strings thine sing so pure;

Come take part in songs
Of fields filled with corns,
Be afloat in the rivery flow
Of tuneful water so;

Take a look at autumn's face
And let that keep you blessed
And then keeping the door open
Go out and life embrace.

(* transliteration of song number 38, Gitanjali,)