A Meeting at Twilight
Souradeep Roy
Distant dreams of a primitive past
resonate in the music of twilight.
Serene breeze, a messenger of melody,
brings sounds of today to you and me:
a dog howls or probably wails
mourning the lonesome dead street;
another dog in some civilized flat
beats a wailing woman’s agony;
cars of some distant street
lock horns with time
to meet their destiny;
a rat smells a rat
and alerts others
of unwanted company –
symbols of our civility.
But the wind blew me away
From the rigid walls contemporary.
I struggled against
the nasty noise of pumping tanks,
and ringing telephones of persons of rank,
until horns in a race against time sang
of burned histories faded in the lost sands.
And I saw the creation of the creator
busy hearing the prayers of the evening,
while the silhouette coconut leaves
pointed to the stars:
one, two, no! there were many.
Many souls of the deceased descended down
from their starry abode and sat by me
to tell stories of the other-worldly.
Some raped, most charred bodies
spoke in unison of the ultimate mystery.
And I found out, not surprisingly,
our world is as much a mystery
to the other-worldly.
Distant dreams of a primitive past
resonate in the music of twilight.
Serene breeze, a messenger of melody,
brings sounds of today to you and me:
a dog howls or probably wails
mourning the lonesome dead street;
another dog in some civilized flat
beats a wailing woman’s agony;
cars of some distant street
lock horns with time
to meet their destiny;
a rat smells a rat
and alerts others
of unwanted company –
symbols of our civility.
But the wind blew me away
From the rigid walls contemporary.
I struggled against
the nasty noise of pumping tanks,
and ringing telephones of persons of rank,
until horns in a race against time sang
of burned histories faded in the lost sands.
And I saw the creation of the creator
busy hearing the prayers of the evening,
while the silhouette coconut leaves
pointed to the stars:
one, two, no! there were many.
Many souls of the deceased descended down
from their starry abode and sat by me
to tell stories of the other-worldly.
Some raped, most charred bodies
spoke in unison of the ultimate mystery.
And I found out, not surprisingly,
our world is as much a mystery
to the other-worldly.