Classic Poem

Praised more than can be told
in the swaying pleasure groves:
only the eye is pleasured —
by seeing just a little,
the other catches the whole heart,
and the other
seeing one as another (and being lonely)
calls out.

Though new it seems familiar —
did this heart invite it?
The world changed, and perhaps
painfully awakened this forgotten life.
Shiva, perhaps,
to adorn Uma,
with one glance
dreamed this earth to be their home.

The world must turn to a drop
and disappear
in overflowing eyes.
Every moment every drop of water
must be a creation,
like constellations amid the void.
Somebody weeps
all night, all night,
and creates a heaven.
Divine dream!
This crowd of lonely stars!
Praise be to the life of love.