MY HEART FEELS shy to bring to your vagrant mind

the lyric of my secret lest its meaning be missed

and its rhythm.

I shall wait for some auspicious hour

when the evening is compassionate,

your eyes drowned in its tender dimness,

and my voice reaches you

in a profound calm of truth.

I shall turn my secret round and round through my whisper

at a lonely corner of your heart,

even as the cricket among the silent sal trees

turns single-toned beads of its chirping

in the rosary of night.