Dark Times

Though dusk approaches with baby steps
And the music is silenced as if on cue,
Though there is no companion in the vast expanse of sky,
Though fatigue descends on the body,
Though panic chants a silent prayer as the horizon cloaks itself in darkness,
Still oh bird, my bird,
Now sightless,
Yet,
Fold not your wings.

This is not the rustle of the swaying trees,
It is the sound of the rushing tsunami.
This is not a meadow of whispering leaves,
It is the churning of the ocean waters.
Where is my shore lined with trees,
Where is that nest, that sheltering branch!
Still oh bird, my bird,
Now sightless,
Yet,
Fold not your wings.

The night of rest is imminent
As the sun sets on the distant skyline.
The universe holds it breath like a statue
As it counts the hours relentlessly.
Now the crescent moon reveals itself
After swimming across the blackness of space.
Still oh bird, my bird,
Now sightless,
Yet,
Fold not your wings.

Up in the dark sky, the stars signal with their hand,
While on the earth, Death flows like a tidal wave.
Far away on the shore, they stand with their offering,
"Stay, stay," they say with voices drenched in sympathy.
Oh bird, my bird,
Now sightless,
Yet,
Fold not your wings.

But
There is no fear,
There is no bond of love,
There is no bond of desire,
For desire is just an illusion.
There are no redundant words, no futile tears,
There is no place called home,
There is no flowering garden.
I have only wings
And the vast gallery of the sky
Where a painting hangs
Of a desperate day being overtaken by the deep night.
Oh bird, my bird,
Now sightless,
Yet,
Fold not your wings.

Translated from ”Dooshamay” by Rabindra Tagore