("Sing the song of the moment..."

Do you see the clouds wrapping the sky?

Flocks of cranes fly up from the further riverbank and

fitful gusts of wind rush over the heath.

The anxious cattle run to their stalls in the village.

Do you see the clouds wrapping the sky?

In vain you light your toilet lamp; it flickers and goes out

in the wind.

Surely, who would know that with lamp-black your eye-

lids are not touched? For your eyes are darker than

rain clouds.

In vain you light your toilet lamp; it goes out.

Come as you are, tarry not over your toilet.

If the wreath is not woven, who cares? If the wrist-chain

has not been tied, leave it by.

The sky is overcast with clouds; it is late.

Come as you are, tarry not over your toilet.

VII

Sing the song of the moment in careless carols, in the

transient light of the day;

Sing of the fleeting smiles that vanish and-never look back;

Sing of the flowers that bloom and fade without regret.

Weave not in memory's thread the days that would glide

into nights.

To the guests that must go bid God-speed, and wipe

away all traces of their steps.

Let the moments end in moments with their cargo of

fugitive songs.

Poems

With both hands snap the fetters you made with your own

heart chords;

Take to your breast with a smile what is easy and simple

and near.

Today is the festival of phantoms that know not when

they die.

Let your laughter flush in meaningless mirth like twinkles

of light on the ripples;

Let your life lightly dance on the verge of Time like a dew

on the tip of a leaf.

Strike in the chords of your harp the fitful murmurs of

moments.

VII

Lest I should know you too easily, you play with me.

You blind me with flashes of laughter to hide your tears.

I know, I know your art;

You never say-the word you would.

Lest I should prize you not, you elude me in a thousand

ways.

Lest I should mix you with the crowd, you stand aside.

I know, I know your art;

You: never walk the path you would.

Your claim is more than others; that is why you are silent.

With a playful carelessness you avoid my gifts.

I know, I know your art;

You never accept what you would.