The Gardener | Page 5

day of breezy March when the murmur of the spring
was languorous, and mango blossoms were dropping on the dust.
The
rippling water leapt and licked the brass vessel that stood on the

landing step.
I think of that day of breezy March, I do not know why.
Shadows are deepening and cattle returning to their folds.
The light is
grey upon the lonely meadows, and the villagers are waiting for the
ferry at the bank.
I slowly return upon my steps, I do not know why.
15
I run as a musk-deer runs in the shadow of the forest mad with his own
perfume.
The night is the night of mid-May, the breeze is the breeze
of the south.
I lose my way and I wander, I seek what I cannot get, I
get what I do not seek.
From my heart comes out and dances the image of my own desire. The
gleaming vision flits on.
I try to clasp it firmly, it eludes me and leads
me astray. I seek what I cannot get, I get what I do not seek.
16
Hands cling to hands and eyes linger on eyes: thus begins the record of
our hearts.
It is the moonlit night of March; the sweet smell of henna
is in the air; my flute lies on the earth neglected and your garland of
flowers in unfinished.
This love between you and me is simple as a
song.
Your veil of the saffron colour makes my eyes drunk.
The jasmine
wreath that you wove me thrills to my heart like praise.
It is a game
of giving and withholding, revealing and screening again; some smiles
and some little shyness, and some sweet useless struggles.
This love
between you and me is simple as a song.
No mystery beyond the present; no striving for the impossible; no
shadow behind the charm; no groping in the depth of the dark. This
love between you and me is simple as a song.
We do not stray out of all words into the ever silent; we do not raise our
hands to the void for things beyond hope.
It is enough what we give

and we get.
We have not crushed the joy to the utmost to wring from
it the wine of pain.
This love between you and me is simple as a song.
17
The yellow bird sings in their tree and makes my heart dance with
gladness.
We both live in the same village, and that is our one piece
of joy.
Her pair of pet lambs come to graze in the shade of our garden
trees.
If they stray into our barley field, I take them up in my arms.
The name of our village is Khanjan\u0101, and Anjan\u0101 they call
our river.
My name is known to all the village, and her name is
Ranjan\u0101.
Only one field lies between us.
Bees that have hived in our grove go
to seek honey in theirs. Flowers launched from their landing-stairs
come floating by the stream where we bathe.
Baskets of dried kusm
flowers come from their fields to
our market.
The name of our
village is Khanjan\u0101, and Anjan\u0101 they call our river.
My
name is known to all the village, and her name is Ranjan\u0101.
The lane that winds to their house is fragrant in the spring with mango
flowers.
When their linseed is ripe for harvest the hemp is in bloom
in our field.
The stars that smile on their cottage send us the same
twinkling look.
The rain that floods their tank makes glad our kadam

forest.
The name of our village is Khanjan\u0101, and
Anjan\u0101 they call our river.
My name is known to all the village,
and her name is Ranjan\u0101.
18
When the two sisters go to fetch water, they come to this spot and they
smile.
They must be aware of somebody who stands behind the trees

whenever they go to fetch water.
The two sisters whisper to each other when they pass this spot. They
must have guessed the secret of that somebody who stands behind the

trees whenever they go to fetch water.
Their pitchers lurch suddenly, and water spills when they reach this
spot.
They must have found out that somebody's heart is beating who
stands behind the trees whenever they go to fetch water.
The two sisters glance at each other when they come to this spot, and
they smile.
There is a laughter in their swift-stepping feet, which
makes confusion in somebody's mind who stands behind the trees

whenever they go to fetch water.
19
You walked by the riverside path with the full pitcher upon your hip.

Why did you swiftly turn your face and peep at me through your
fluttering veil?
That gleaming look from the dark came upon me like
a breeze that sends a shiver through the rippling water and sweeps
away to the shadowy shore.
It came to me like the bird of the evening
that hurriedly flies across the