Beyond Land and Time

After Twenty-Five Years

(Māther Gôlpo: Pôncish Bôcôor Pôrє)

Translated by Luna Rushdi

Amidst a vast meadow the last time when I met her
I said: ‘Come again on a time like this
if one day you so wish
twenty-five years later.’
This been said, I came back home.
After that, many a time, the moon and the stars,
from field to field have died, the owls and the rats
roamed paddy fields in moonlit nights
fluttered and crept!—shut eyed
many times left and right
have slept.
several souls!—awake kept I
all alone—on the sky
the stars travel fast
faster still, time speeds by.
Yet it seems
Twenty-Five years will forever last.

Then, again—one day

the field is filled

with withered grass,

wilting leaves and shriveled stems

the fog is floating all around—

upon the road—dew-drenched

the sparrow’s broken nest

lies the bird’s egg-shell, cold—lifeless!

Cucumber-blossoms, some rotten white cucumbers

a torn cob-web,—a spider, dead and dry

sticks to the leaves

the moon shines bright.

A few stars twinkle

upon the wintry sky—rats and owls

roam from field to field—broken grains still quench their thirst

twenty-five years have long gone past!