The Sentry

The Sentry

Your bright eyes

remind me the clouds of dawn;

I fear your eyes no more

As they are now wet with love 

Darling, do not try to avoid

in a hurry for something

the peacock’s feather

which you guarded until now

and the soft, silky dawns.

Because,

on the trail of moonlight will be 

multitude of clouds

behind every day

will be murky nights

I do not want to see

the shadows of worry in your eyes

where stars shine and wane.

I do not want to see

In those eagar eyes

the fire of hatred.

It is my offering to you,

whose heart is wet with love,

the red flag

which I held in my heart

and the black flag

which is flying upon myself.

The ringing noise of

clock of moments

will one day tear off

the silence between us.

For the defeated who is dead,

the last rites will be done

by days and weeks and months and years

on withered, lifeless flowers.

To-day,

what I like is the smell of burning flesh

and the water of the stream

I stand guard alongwith moonlight

over half-burnt hill of corpses.

I laugh seeing the souls

who run away frightened of fire. 

When their sympathy will be

decreed as the eternal world

and freedom of tender birds

who desire to fly

Just know that

I am sitting as the friend and guard

of burning corpses.