Tuesday, December 2, 2008
With the blooms of tears spurting in her eyes,
In the soft sunlight of her remembrances,
Who is she bowing in reverence with
Downcast eyes like a psalm, before
Your final resting place,... like a
Heart rendering psalm, all alone?
You have measured the invaluable love
In terms of immense wealth and money;
And bartered it, at the cost of your tears.
Why did such a rich maiden
Await even today straining to hear a din?
Is there a heart, throbbing in the depth of
This sepulcher, calling out your name from there?
Is it possible to hear the resonance of voices,
Which has been swallowed by some mysterious silence?
Could a heart stricken by the death blow
And cut off into a hundred pieces
Resurrect from the dead and beckon a beloved?
Except that a hundred blossoms will bloom
In the earth, from the blood spilled there by the assailant!