The squirrel –look!-leaps on a bough
And lingers there keenly judging
On my appearance and hiding
The thoughts covetously and lightnings
Which often flash across my brow
And deem in eyes of the fawn colour
Entangling me in snare so tightly
I drag my feet and all at once
Begin to weep on my last woe.
The beast has got its own sense
Prefers to keep away and tension
Between the two of us – say strangers
Is changing into mere distance
Just simple distance veiled in smoke
And haze from ground fiercely burnt
And all the grievances of storm
But now and then from torn
And blurred this image squirrel’s eyes
Let out bright
and startling light
The nature’s sweeping towards me
It’s turning o’er stones, it rocks
Deep pools with water still and green
And leaves no doubt who this caused
The frightful power turns on me
And casts aside astonished Moon.
In way of turbulent explosion
The most tempestuous, mirageous
But wise and virile motion.
Before that raging light
I stayed, I strayed; I’d not have ever dared
For narrow-minded I had been…
But does it make sense, all this talking
To hollow wind? I’m beaten and I die
Through rough self-mocking.