Again, the darkness has condensed
in the sky; light's mysterious sibling
this darkness is.
They, whom I have always loved,
they too, who have loved me,
this darkness is becoming thick in this
Some destroyed city's story
flashes in my mind, some hoary palace was
there, that whose lovely form emerges
in the home of my heart.
By the shore of Indian sea
or by the side of the Mediterranean sea
Or by the Tire ocean; today
it does not exist, a city was alive one
a palace existed there;
costly furniture filled grand palace:
Persian carpet, Kashmir shawl, Berin wave's
perfectly shaped pearl,
my diminished heart, my dead eye, my dejected
desires and dreamings,
This all existed in that world one day.
Many orange colored sunshine was there,
Many cockatoos and pigeons were there,
Mahogany's shadow~thick petals were many;
Many orange colored sunlight was,
Many orange colored sunlight;
and you, you were there;
Your face's loveliness have I not seen
for so many centuries, have I not
September's darkness brings that Ocean transcendent story,
Incredibly beautiful arches' and domes' pain filled
Annihilated pear fruit's smell,
Countless deer and lion skins' gray manuscript,
Rainbow colored grass window,
In peacock~feather like curtain, to curtain
chamber to chamber, far away
more internal chamber's silence
momentary epiphany and anticipation—
Ageless (timeless) stillness and wonder.
In the curtain, in the carpet
blood colored sunlight's refracted perspiration,
in sanguine colored glass: watermelon juice's
and your naked, solitary hand.
Your naked, solitary hand.