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.