◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Home

I strolled alone along the path of the fields, the setting sun reaping the last of its gold like a miser.

The daylight sank deep into the darkness, and the lonely earth lay silent, on the land that had been

harvested.

Suddenly, a child's shrill voice rushed into the sky; he swept through the darkness, and let loose the ripples of his song

to cut through the stillness of the dusk.

His farmhouse lay over the cane fields at the end of this barren land, hidden in the heavy shade of the fragrant and slender betel

palm, coconut, and dark green durian trees.

On my lonesome way, I paused for a moment under the starlight and saw the black

pressure of the earth that unfolded before me. With arms encircling countless homes, equipped with cradles and beds, a mother's heart

with twilight lamps, and the young creatures joyous with gladness, but blissfully unaware of their value to

this world!

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

By the Sea

The children meet in this endless world by the sea.

The vast sky is still above, the water never stops clamoring, and in this boundless world by the sea

the children meet, shout, and dance.

They build their houses of sand, play with empty shells, weave their boats of dead leaves, and slide into the sea with smiles on their faces. On the beaches of the world the children play with their own

They do not know how to swim, nor how to cast a net. The pearl-pickers dive for pearls, and the merchants

sail the sea in their ships; but the children gather up the little pebbles and scatter them. They

did not bless the search for treasure, nor did they know how to cast a net.

The sea laughed and lifted its waves, and every shore shone with a pale smile. The menacing waves sang a meaningless song to the children

like a mother rocking her baby's cradle. The sea plays with the children, and the seashore shines with a pale smile.

Children meet on this boundless seashore, storms roam the pathless sky, sailing ships destroy

on the trackless water, the fearful gods have come out and the children play, and in this boundless world of the sea

side is the great meeting-place of the children.

Fountainhead

Sleep flutters its wings and rests on the child's eyelashes - does anyone know where this sleep comes from? Yes

Yes, there is a legend: sleep dwells in the fairy manor in the shade of the forest; there the fireflies carry

little lanterns; there hang two charming shy buds, and from there sleep flies and kisses

the child's eyes.

A smile flickers on the child's lips, while he sleeps--does any one know where this smile

was born? Yes, there is a tale of a crescent moon whose first light touched the edge of the dissipating

autumn clouds; where the smile was first born in a dream of a dew-washed morning - a small

smile flickered on the child's lips.

Fragrant tender freshness opened on the child's limbs--did any one know where this was hidden

earlier? Yes, it filled the mother's heart when she was a maiden, and in

loving attentiveness and quiet mystery-this fragrant, tender, fresh breath has opened on the limbs of the child

.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

The Way of the Child

If the child were to want this, he could instantly drum his wings and fly to heaven.

It is not without reason that he has not left us;

his only desire is to come from his mother's lips to learn her speech, and this is why he seems

so muddled.

The child had heaps of gold and silver and pearls, but he came into the world in the likeness of a beggar.

It was not for nothing that he had to dress in this way:

He asked for his mother's love treasures, and it was only by posing as utterly helpless that the sweet little naked beggar could

access his mother's rich treasures of love.

The child has few restraints in the land of the slender crescent moon.

It was not for nothing that he gave up his freedom;

he knew that in the corner of his mother's heart there was a place of infinite gladness, and that the embrace in her dear arms

was far sweeter than that freedom.

The child never knows how to cry; he dwells in a realm full of happiness.

It was not for nothing that he chose to weep:

Though the smile of his lovely face drew his mother's longing heart to him, yet a few cries over a little distress

were woven in a double knot of love and pity.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

The little bud of life

Ah! Who dyed that little garment, my child, and covered thy fair limbs with that little red

coat?

You come to play in the yard in the morning, and you waddle and totter as you run.

But, my child, who dyed that little garment?

What makes you laugh, little bud of my life?

Your mommy stood on the steps and smiled at you.

She claps her hands and her bangles jingle, and you hold a small bamboo pole in your hand like a little shepherd boy dancing

.

But what makes you laugh, little bud of my life?

Ah, little beggar, what do you beg, when you wrap your hands around your mommy's neck?

Ah, greedy little beggar, do you want me to pluck the world like fruit from heaven and put it in

your little red winter palms?

Ah, little beggar, what are you begging for?

The wind laughs and carries away the tinkle of your ankle-bells,

The sun smiles as you groom yourself,

You sleep in your mommy's arms, and the sky keeps watch over you, while the morning comes cautiously to your bedside to kiss your

eyes.

The wind laughingly carried away the tinkle of ankle bells.

The nymphs of the Lord of Dreams fly to you through the dawn sky.

That Mother of the World retains her place in your mommy's heart.

That he who plays music to the stars stands by your window with his flute.

That nymph of the Lord of Dreams has flown across the dawn sky toward you.

The Thief of Sleep

Who has sworn away sleep from a child's eyes? I must know.

Mother carried her water bottle around her waist to a nearby village to draw water.

The children's playtime had passed at the first hour of the day; and the ducks were silent in the pool.

The shepherd boy lay dozing in the shade of the banyan tree.

The white cranes stood stately and silent in the swamp by the lemon sleepy forest.

At that very moment the thief of sleep came and took advantage of the child's eyelashes to steal the sleep and fly away.

When the mother returned, she found the child wandering about the house on all fours.

Who stole the sleep from the child's eyes? I must know, I must find her and lock her up

.

I must pass by the rounded stones and the angry stones and visit the dark cave where a stream flows.

I must seek in the misty shade of the cymbal gula bush, where doves whisper in a corner

and fairy ankle-bells tinkle in the stillness of the starry night.

At dusk I will peer into the whispering silence of the bamboo grove, where the fireflies squander their light

, and I will ask of every creature I meet, 'Who will tell me where the thief of sleep dwells

?'

Who has stolen sleep from the eyes of a child? I must know.

Fear I will not teach her a good lesson, if only I can catch her?

I will search her lair and seek out the place where she hid the sleep she stole.

I will snatch them all back.

I will bind both her wings securely and place her on the riverbank; then I will let her make a fishing play with a reed between the lampas

and the lotus.

When the evening market had passed, and the little children of the village were sitting on their mothers' laps; then the night-birds would taunt

her, and rave in her ears, 'Whose sleep do you now play to steal?'

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Source

'I came from there, and you found me there,' the child asked his mother.

She held the child tightly in her arms and replied with a laugh:

'My baby, you are the wish hidden in my heart.

You were among the dolls I played with in my childhood; and when every morning I fashioned the idol; I made you and destroyed it

You were honored with our household gods, and in his worship I worshipped you.

In all my hopes, in my love, in my life, in my mother's life thou didst dwell

.

You were nurtured for a long time in the arms of the immortal Spirit who took care of our family.

As a girl, when the petals of my heart bloomed, you soared above them like a fragrance.

Your soft sweetness blossomed on my youthful limbs like the dawn of heaven rising before the rising sun

God's first favorite, twinned with the morning sun, you floated from the river of the world's life, and at last rested

on my heart.

When I look upon thy face, it bids me wonder; thou who art of the whole, art now made mine.

For fear of losing you, I hold you in my arms. What magic has gathered the treasures of the world in my

weak arms?

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

The world of a child

I wish I could gain a quiet corner of the world of my child's true heart.

I wish I had the stars there to speak to him, the sky there to bend over his face and make him smile with demented clouds and

rainbows.

Those that pretended to be speechless and seemed to be forever immobile crawled to his window to

tell him stories or bring plates of toys filled with light.

I wish I could travel that path that passes through a child's mind to relieve myself of all bondage.

The messengers there run without cause among the lands of kings without origin.

There Reason flies a kite with its own laws, and Truth sets Facts free from their shackles

.

Comprehension

When I bring you colorful toys, my child, I understand why there is a fluttering of

colors in the clouds, in the water. Why flowers should be colored-- When I bring you colored toys, my child.

When I sing to make you dance, I truly understand why there is music in the leaves, why the waves send out a chorus to listen to the heart of the earth-- when I sing to make you dance.

When I bring sweets to your greedy hands, I understand why there is honey in the cup of the flower, why the water is trapped

in the darkness and full of sweet syrup--when I bring sweets to your poor begging hands.

When I kissed your cheeks and made you smile, my darling, I realized what joy cascades down from the morning light in the sky, and what delight the cool summer breeze brings to my body - when I kissed you and made you smile.

The judgment

Say what you will about him, but I know my child's weakness.

I love him not because he is good, but because he is my child.

You only try to measure his merits and demerits, how do you know that he is a part of me

When I have to punish him, he becomes a part of me.

When I made him weep, my heart wept with him.

I have a right to scold and punish, for he can only be disciplined by those who love him.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Toys

Child, how happy you are, you sit in the dust and play all morning with the little broken

branches.

I laughed at you playing with that one little broken branch.

I was busy with my calculations, adding up numbers hour by hour.

Perhaps you caught a glimpse of me, and you thought, 'What a tedious game to spoil your morning

morning!' .

Child, I have forgotten the art of making sticks and mud pies with great concentration.

I have found the most expensive toys, and I have gathered a great deal of gold and silver.

You find whatever you like, you create your favorite games, and I waste both my time and

my energy searching for what I can never get.

In my canoe, which is not strong enough, I struggle to cross the sea of hope, forgetting that I am also

playing a game.

Astronomers

I only say: "When the full moon in the evening entangles itself in the branches of the Kirtan tree, can no one

catch it?"

But my brother laughed at me and said, "Nui, you're the stupidest child I know. The moon is always far away from us, so how can we catch it?

I said, 'How stupid you are, brother! Would you say that mother is far away when she peers out of her window and smiles at my

games below?'

Brother still said, 'You are a little fool! But, Nui, where did you find a net big enough to catch the moon?"

I said, "Of course, you can catch it with your hands."

But my brother laughed and said, "You are the stupidest child I know. If the moon came closer,

you would see how big it would be.'"

I said, 'What nonsense do they teach you at school, brother, that when Mother bends down and

kisses us, doesn't her face look big?'

But brother still said, 'You are a little fool.'

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Clouds and Waves

Momma, those people who live in the clouds called to me-

'We played from waking time to the end of day.

We play with the golden dawn and with the silver moon.'

I asked, 'But how can I come to your side?'

They answered, 'Go to the edge of the earth, raise your hands to the sky, and you will be taken

up into the clouds.'

'My mother is at home expecting me to return.' And I said, 'How can I leave her and come to you?

So they laughed and drifted away.

But I knew a better game than that.

I will be the cloud and you the moon.

I will cover you with both hands, and our roof will become the green sky.

The people who live in the waves shouted to me - 'We sing from morning till night; onward

onward, onward, we travel, not knowing where we are passing.'

I asked, 'But how can I join you?'

They told me, "Come to the edge of the shore, stand and close your eyes tightly, and you will be carried away on the waves."

I said, 'My mother used to ask me to stay at home at dusk - how can I go away from him?'

So they laughed and danced past.

But I know a better game than that.

I will be the waves, and you will be the shore of a foreign land.

I will roll forward. Rolling until it brings laughter to crumble in your lap.

No one in the world can know where the two of us are.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Shambles

If I were to become a shambles flower, just for fun, and I were to grow on the branches of that tall tree

and smile and sway in the wind, and dance on the newly budding leaves, would you know about me, Mommy?

Would you know me, Mommy, if you shouted, "Baby, where are you?"? I should have snickered to myself and held my tongue in perfect silence.

I should secretly open my petals and watch what you are doing.

When you have bathed, and your wet hair hangs over your shoulders; and you walk from the shadow of the chamblee tree into the little

court to say your prayers, you will smell the fragrance of the chamblee flowers, but you will not know that it is coming from me

.

When you sit at the window after lunch and read the Ramayana, and the shadows of the trees fall on your hair and your knees, I cast my tiny shadow on the pages of your book, where you are reading.

But would you have guessed that it was the shadow of your child?

When, in the twilight, you went to the cowshed with a lamp in your hand, I fell to the ground again, and, still

remaining your child, begged you to tell me one thing:

'You naughty boy, have you ever been there?

"I won't tell you, Mommy." That's what you and I are going to say.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Fairyland

If people knew my king's palace was there, it would disappear into the air.

The walls of the palace are made of silver, and the roof is made of glowing gold.

The queen lived in a palace with seven courtyards, and she wore the jewel of wealth worth seven kingdoms.

But let me tell you in a whisper, Mommy, where exactly is my king's palace?

It is in the corner of our garden where the Tulsi plant is.

The Princess lies far away on seven unnavigable shores.

Only I can find her in this whole world.

Bracelets were on her hands, beaded pendants in her ears, and her hair shook the ground.

When I touch her with my wand, she wakes up, and when she smiles, pearls slip from her

lips.

But let me whisper to you, Mommy, that she is there in the corner of our rooftop garden in an incredible pot of Elchelle Plants

.

When you're going to bathe in the river, cross over to that roof garden.

I sat there in the corner where the shadows of the walls meet.

Only the cat is licensed to be with me, for she knows where the barber in that story lives.

But, Mommy, let me whisper in your ear where the barber in the story lives

It is in the corner of our rooftop garden with a tulsi plant.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Exile

Mommy, the light in the sky has turned gray; I don't know what time it is.

My games are no longer interesting, so I come to you. It's Saturday, it's my

holiday.

Let go of your work, Mommy, and sit here by the window and tell me where the charcoal Pan

Thai desert is in the fairy tale?

The gloom of rain covered it all day.

Fierce flashes of lightning tickle the sky with their clawed toes.

When the black clouds rumble and thunder, I love to nestle against you with a fearful heart.

When the heavy rain beats on the bamboo leaves with its whole clockwork, and our windows shake and rattle with the wind's frenzy

I love to

sit alone in my room, Mother, with you, and listen to your stories of the charcoal Pantai desert in the fairy tales.

It is there, Mother, on the shore of what sea? At the foot of what mountain? At the foot of what mountain? In

What kingdom of kings?

There are no hedges to mark the boundaries of the fields, no groves to enable the villagers to return to their villages at the time of the yellow soap, or

to gather the wages in the forest.

The women had a way to bring firewood to the market. In the sand there were only small clumps of yellow grass, and only one

tree in the Charpantay Desert, and a pair of wise old birds made their nests in that tree.

I can imagine the king's youngest son riding alone on a

gray horse across the desert on such a gloomy day, wading through uncharted waters in search of the princess imprisoned in the palace of the giants

When the rainy haze hangs in the distant sky with electric flashes and sudden spasmodic bursts of pain, can he remember

that his unfortunate mother, abandoned by the king, was sweeping the cattle and cleaning up the garden, and that the king's children had been left to their own devices? forsaken by the King, was sweeping the cowshed and wiping her eyes,

as he rode through the desert of Pantai, the bank of fairy tales?

Look, mamma, it was almost dark before sunset, and there were no more travelers there on the village roads

The shepherd boys had long since gone home from their pastures, and the farmers had left their fields and were sitting on their mats under the eaves of their huts, admiring the clouds of Hiran.

Mommy, I've put all my books on the shelf - now don't be afraid to rush me with my homework.

When I grow up to be as big as my father, I'll learn everything there is to learn.

But just today, tell me, Mommy, where

is the Charcoal Pantai Desert in the fairy tale?

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Rainy day

Gloomy clouds darted to gather on the edges of the blackness.

Huh, kid, don't go outside.

The rows of palms along the lake's edge touched the gloomy sky at the top of their heads; crows trailed their wings

and perched silently on the branches of tamarind trees. And the east bank of the river was dominated by a heavy gloom

Our cattle tethered to the fence were bellowing.

Here, grandson, wait here and let me take him into the cow pen.

People were flocking into the flooded fields to catch the fish that came out of the ponds; and the rain ran through the narrow lanes like a brook, like a laughing child running to annoy his mother.

Listen, there is a man at the ferry, calling out for a ferryboat.

Look, child, it is dark, and the ferry has stopped crossing the river.

The sky seemed to be racing with the maddening rain, and the waters of the river were in a violent uproar, and the women

had long since rushed home from the Ganges with their full water bottles.

The lights of the night must be prepared in advance.

Here, child, do not go out.

The road to the market was gone, and the alley to the river was slippery. The wind howled and struggled among the bamboo branches

as if a wild animal had been entrapped in a net.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Paper Boats

Day after day, I floated my paper boats, one after another, in the Mercedes stream.

I wrote my name on the boat in black letters in large block letters in the moon, along with the name of the village where I lived.

I hoped that in some strange place someone would see them and know who I was.

I loaded the boat with Cherubs from our garden, hoping that these morning flowers would be brought safely

up to shore in the evening.

I lowered my paper boat into the water and looked up into the sky to see tiny white clouds hoisting their white

colored sails.

I wondered what traveling companion of mine could send them down in the sky to race my boat.

When night came, I buried my face in the bay of my arms and dreamed of my many paper boats floating onward

, onward into the midnight starlight.

Sleeping fairies sit in these boats, carrying their baskets full of dreams.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Sailor

The boatman 'Madhu's' boat was moored at the dock of 'Rechiganch'.

The ship was loaded with jute and had been there for a long time.

I will supply him with a hundred sailors to hoist five, six, or seven sails, if he will lend me his ship.

I will never sail it to the markets of folly.

I will sail the seven seas and thirteen rivers of fairyland.

But, Mommy, don't cry for me sitting in a corner.

I will not go to the forest like Ramachandra and wait fourteen years to return.

I am going to be the prince of the story, and I am going to fill a boat with all my favorite things.

I will take my friend Azor with me, and we will sail the seven seas and thirteen rivers of the fairyland with great joy.

We will start in the early morning.

When you bathe in the pool, we will be in the territory of a strange king.

We will pass through the shallow sea of Tirponi, leaving the desert of Tampantai far behind us.

We will return at nightfall, and I will tell you what I have seen.

I will traverse the seven seas and thirteen rivers of Fairyland.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

The Distant Other Side

I long to be there, on the distant other side of the river.

There, where the little boats are tied to the Penny by a line;

There, where in the morning many men cross their boats, with plows on their shoulders, and go out into their distant

fields;

There, where the cattlemen call their bellowing herds to swim out into the pastures of the river;

There, where in the twilight they all go home, and leave the the wail of the jackal in the grass of that desert island.

Momma, if you don't mind, I'd sure like to be the boatman on that ferry when I get older

.

The others said that there were quite a few strange pools of water hidden behind that high bank.

There, when the rains were over, the wild ducks came in flocks, and in the reeds around the pools,

the waterfowl laid their eggs;

there, the swarms of sandpipers danced with their tails, and imprinted their little tracks on the clean, soft mud;

there, in the twilight, the green grasses, in their white flowery hats, invited the moonlight to drift over their waves