That is why, in
the days when the autumn light shimmers on the mellowing ears of rice, I
seem to remember a past when my mind was everywhere, and even to hear
voices as of playfellows echoing from the remote and deeply veiled past.
When, in the evening, the cattle return to their folds, raising dust from
the meadow paths, as the moon rises higher than the smoke ascending from
the village huts, I feel sad as for some great separation that happened in
the first morning of existence.
8
My mind still buzzed with the cares of a busy day; I sat on without noting
how twilight was deepening into dark. Suddenly light stirred across the
gloom and touched me as with a finger.
I lifted my head and met the gaze of the full moon widened in wonder like a
child's. It held my eyes for long, and I felt as though a love-letter had
been secretly dropped in at my window. And ever since my heart is breaking
to write for answer something fragrant as Night's unseen flowers--great as
her declaration spelt out in nameless stars.
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