The moon’s solitary, sky’s in itself
I found the heart lonely each time we met;
Hope’s dead, even the stars have set
Just the reek shimmers of this self;
Is this life we call, really ?
This breathing mere, being alive just :
The body lonely on a spirit dumped.
Even with partners avowed
I met on my way
We trod alone, parted by our self.
Beyond these lights now
Put off and on
This house will rest all alone
Empty, shrivelled and forlorn
In wait endless
Long past I am gone
Glass eyed, yes, but looking on
For the steps absent
On paths overgrown…
Insist why, my dear
For my life’s tale ?
Its weaves are bland
And strands joyless.
* * *
Blistering frenzy would have brough him to these ruins
Else who would light a lamp in storm this booming ?
Speck every must hold his prayers pure
With God must he have each form cured
Quenching the thirst of burning thorns
Palms loving, the dripping waters hot.
And if he’d find a shining golden rock
Reflect it’d his clear, own broken heart.
Ere the traveller wipes the blood spatters clean
Know, he raised this garden in barrens rocky.
* * * * * *
Adaptations of poems
written and sung by Meena Kumari.