The Moment

G. SANKARA KURUP

THE MOMENT

Ephemeral Moment!

Thief

Who sucks the honey of the life-flower

And gently floats away

Oh, how my fancy, elegant and simple,

Longs to trap your tissue-wings in her tremulous

fingertips,

Do not deceive her, who yearns

To crush you with kisses to her heart!

Let her with words-silk-soft threads-

Painlessly bind your feet fragile.

Let her in all innocent impatience

Scrutinize your tender wings.

Was not

This infinite spread of colours on your tear-wet

wings

Mixed from the passions

Pigments to mortal minds?

On your rainbow-wings are projected

The transient needs

The sweet yearnings of the Soul,

Vibrant with desires.

These tiny moments!

Before me they come

And behind vanish

With lightning-surpassing speed.

These tiny moments,

Each, unique, varied!

Whence do they come and whither go so quick,

While my fancy gazes, dumbfounded, deceived,

Now through smiles, now through tears

At the scale-dust of remembrance of your wings,

sticking soft on her fingertips?

Ephemeral Moment!

Unless you flapped your small wings

Would there be

On Earth or in the Heavens

These innumerable pulsations of life?

Actions-would they search

For their own reactions, as a cow her calf,

To embrace them?

Let the fear in the sinner's heart, fanned by your

tiny wings,

Spout like a giant flame?

Ephemeral Moment!

When you flap your tiny wings,

The infinite-the universe-moves forth with im-

mense speed.

Each flap echoes differently

In different hearts.

And like some distant drums rolling,

Provides

Incidental music to the March of life,

Trudging along Karma's path,

Trampling births and deaths.

Fluttering Moments!

You come so swift

Each in the wake of the other, almost touching.

Is not this wondrous firmament

But the shadow cast by your wings?

What we see as True, Real, Stationary,

Ah, it is but a bewitching illusion.

The Stars, like frost, tremble

when you flap your tiny wings.

And the outlaw empire of Pride, built by human

might,

Shudders and sways in the wind like some ragged

cobweb

when you flap your tiny wings.

What

If the withering flowers of life fall, when you flap

your wings?

For a hundred thousand beauties are evolved

And put forth their buds.

What

If the Sun, that brightens the sky, burns out?

The creative cosmic Force would

Strike fire out of cinders burnt black.

And in this light and warmth

Life would spark anew!

Ephemeral Moment!

Farewell.

Speed now before my tears, long held,

Wet your wings numb.

But before you go, let me give to your wings

A message for that Beauty

Whose embrace I yearn for:

"How long, how long,

Must I await in these dreams

Your realization!"

Translated from the Malayalam by T. K. Balakrishnan