Friday, May 26, 2017

JH Sayyar's Classical Odes

13. Ode to a Busy Night

1
All busy, the stars twinkling, the moon shining for fruits and flowers,
Nights birds collecting food and prey, for their sleeping bambinos,
Larks singing over the sea, and sad eagles sitting on high towers,
Their eyes busy searching preys, crocodiles playing on ooze,
Lovers busy making revelry, I sitting all alone on the shore,
The sinking moon in sea surfs, sharks busy diving in waves,
The aqua makes circle within the circle, running all over the sea,
Kids playing with ferry boats ignoring moms , my hearts craves,
Fo talking someone but all busy working I do insist no more,
In see all sight with weeping eyes, remind me of love of yore,
When love ruled heart and soul, people welcome guests gladly.

2
All busy, just like my Lady busy dining with cousins and aunt
Chairs, table, dinner supply, walking, talking ignoring my being,
Like birds chirping all night while talking mild, mild taunt,
Before sleeping talking bath, night dress and for sleeping fleeing,
Here bites me solitude, eyes count stars all night awake,
Like on duty night watcher, pillow wets slowly, slowly with tears,
Shining dress, finger rings, light red lips, and glowing cheeks,
When I see this sight in trance, my moaning heart full of fears,
Lest she should forget me like merman and melt like flake
In the din of merry woman’s heart week, come back for my sake,
I weep alone all night, absence makes a mo many a weeks.

3
All busy, I do myself busy weeping on her absence shrine,
And I lit the tear-candle on dusk, woes shine like spark,
And prays to her sleep deity to recall me when she does dine,
O cute fingers when you morsel, mix my love in dark,
O cold water do mix my tears in it when does she you drink,
O teeth, chew not until my love is mixed in it and O tongue,
Not to give taste until my glee is mixed in it and my heart,
Remind her of my love, let not her sleep she is still young,
O bed, o soft pillow give her no rest, rest at a wink,
Alas! In this woeful cool night my moaning heart does sink,
In the sea of remote pleasure, woe and grief, It is my love part?