From “Usarika” (Dawn-Rhythms).
Snow-blossoms,
snow-blossoms,
Are
you alive?
In your heart
I see
the image
of
the heavens,
the disc
of
the sun,
And
when clouds
veil
the face
of
the sky
I see
your facets
tinted
with
the ink
of
dark sorrow.
Children of Varun,
sweet guests
of
late Autumn,
you too
hear
the whispers
of
Immortality.
Like
our village sons,
dwelling
in
lighted cottages
by
the gloom-canopied
graves
of
their departed
ancestors.
Śrī Ānanda Āchārya.
From “Saki” (The Comrade).
The
rose of eternity
is
my heart,
the
sun-gold honey
is
my love
for
my Saki,
the
honey-bees
are
my sighs and songs,
the
river
is
my feeling
of
life,
and
the light
of
my Saki’s
eyes
is
the true life
of
the red rose.
What
grey dews
or
blind canker
can harm
this
ever-smiling
rose
of
my heart?