Monday, December 1, 2008

The Flutist at Dawn

I saw the shepherd on the barren field.
I saw his dark far-off figure
Standing alone in the field
that ended in darkness
The world was dark and bare;
And Darkness surrounded and enveloped the solitary field.

Then the shepherd picks his flute up and starts to play
The air lifts the flute up to the realms beyond the field
Under the red sky!
And Ahir Bhairo descend onto his flute
Soft and majestic.
The song overpowers the valley.

And behold!
A few light leaves of grass are born!
Formed are trunks
And formed are whole trees!
And emerged are huts and ponds!
And the world revels in

Golden glory dances in the East!
And birds wake up all around,
And the field is enthralled by the sound!

The world shakes off the darkness and
Leans over the lone figure
Thriving on the flute!

Morning comes.

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