शुक्रवार, 5 मार्च 2010

VI. Riding the Bull





.
.

.
VI.                    Riding the Bull

Mounting the bull, slowly I return homeward.

The voice of my flute intones through the evening.

Measuring with hand-beats the pulsation harmony, I direct the endless rhythm.

Whoever hears this melody will join me.

.
Comment:  This struggle is over; gain and loss are assimilated.  I sing the song of the village woodsman, and play the tunes of the children.  Astride the bull, I observe the clouds above.  Onward I go, no matter who may wish to call me back.
.
Share: