Classic Poem

Akananuru 358

Their throats glittering like blue sapphire,
tail feathers splendid,
the peacocks gather
with sweet calls,
dancers
skilled in slow-beat rhythms.

But you don't play anymore
like those peacocks
with your girl friends
in the long deep streams,
wearing wreaths of blue lily
with petals like eyes,
tresses flaring
as they dance.

Your heart is anxious,
you're lonely, stricken
with pallor.
Now, what shall I say to Mother
if she should notice changes
and ask for reasons?

I know,
our man from the mountain top

where long silver waterfalls shiver
in the wind
like white banners
borne high on elephants
with trappings on their brow,

I know
he has brought you these pangs.
But what shall I say to Mother
if she asks?