MIRA REACHES VRINDAVAN

Yonder comes
The Lord's own bard
Her countenance
Is love molten
In which blossoms
Twin lotuses
Of crimson hue

Her dress is wild
Her tress too so
And yet there is
A beauty in her
A beauty
That has its source
Far beyond
This tiny ball

She wears
A dreamy gaze
She dreams not
For dreams are
A state below
She breathes in
A state above

Her lips are parched
And flesh is starved
Long ago
When asleep
Her eyes had seen
The sleep we know
No, she didn't
Torture her flesh
She had just
Forgotten it.

Whence does she
Draw the strength
To sing these songs
Wonders one.
The songs of
Sweet agony
The bitter nectar
That flows in torrent
When she squeezes
Her stricken heart
It strikes a note
With which vibrates
In unison
Something lofty
In one and all

THE WHOLE OF HER
IS EVER ALERT
WAITING FOR
THE MAGIC SPARK
TO EXPLODE INTO
ECSTATIC BLISS

It has come!
It has come!
Oh, look at her,
Thou fortunate!
A transformation
Lights her face
Her whole form
Is ablaze with
Quaint ecstasy
An exquisite joy
Exudes from
Her exultant form

She has heard
The notes of flute
That had drawn her
From her sleep
And haunted her
All these years
Whose memories
Had taken her
Across deserts

She has found
Her beloved at last
She does not
Convey her joy
In music now.
Are there words
To describe this?
Can music
Express this?
It`s a silent music now
That`ll touch a being in solitude.

She has wandered alone before
The river has reached the ocean now.
Now at last
She has reached
Her Vrindavan