a poem by Pushpalata Venugopalan, India

The Sun first espied her- the night-
Who in eve’s form arrived,
Her dark-eyed stare upon the light,
She hurried, hurried eagerly nigh!

So bashful, the Sun, writ a welcome in the sky,
In crimson and red and sought to hide;
Their meet, though brief, the magic complete,
The spell cast – a poet’s delight!

And as the eve hurried fervently by,
The blushing Sun, into the horizon, dived;
In ripples of orange, into the sea,
Leaving in mourning, the marooned night!

Dreams for a morrow hopeful she weaves,
Secrets in her tresses wide she keeps,
The sparkling stars, her unshed tears,
She hangs her moony lantern on high!

Her aura portends a secret sorrow,
Hovers brooding until tomorrow;
Feeble at dawn, tears forcibly flow,
Dew drops, dew drops upon Nature’s floor!

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