For whom is this path waiting,
Ever silent,
Becoming alive through the still eyes!
Flames in the earthen lamps by the way side
Dancing and swaying as a terrible sorrow
Reddening and flaring up,
Remember the death-beat, terrified!
Sanctifying the soul's home by
Sprinkling the blood dripping from the long nails,
Engulfing the memory completely,
A Kalmashapada stands!
In the root of the heart, encircled by terrible pain,
In the page of light dissolving as mist,
In the conscience where memory solidifies,
My Andhatamishra,
Becoming alive, rises up!
Today too
My solitude was shattered by shadows.
In the twilight, in this pale vibrating shadow
I see the picture of my lost heaven.
Who is opening the petals of this sky, a cursed truth?
Which yupa's great rope is this high way ?
Bound, alone, I am crawling somewhere along this way
Whose turn opens up as sorrow.
My mirror is the cloud
Which rises up in my sky
Deepening the roots of Dhirghatamas.
Which truth's flashing is this shadow
Clearing in this mirror ?
