-18_Tears of grief

SHED not tears of grief, Creeper of the glade!

Shall Heaven's salver simmering with fragrance'

Cast the unsleeping moments of the New Revelation,

            as the rosy tint from a brush,

Upon the counter of the hardened miser that has

            fallen from the Path?

Shall the branded arm of the harlot wear bracelets

that enshrine the echo of the whitest snows?

Shall the march of divine destinies, revealed

in the memory of the spotless Beyond,

Seek the gradient of a Beauty reeking with the cry of passion?

In silence the Creeper in her ascetic bareness closes her

            eyes, vacant and tawny...

Out of the dream of the Night the Artisan has risen in his ecstasy,

And with the jet-black beauty of the benign and peerless divinity

He sets out in lotus hue the arbour of Life

That reaches out to the far heaven, touches the very front of Dawn.

                                            Jyotirmala 

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