Black Grapes

In a canopy of tangled vines
They hang bunch after bunch,
Ripening in the August sun.

Thick, warm and succulent
They reveal the limitless sky,
In a Keatsian sensuousness.

Twinkling, innocent, inebriated
Enter the celestial paradise,
Smear your lips with their taste.

August 2007, Takiyama

Stone Steps

When you make a staircase,
Sketch its geography, and
Then embed it in nature,
It can last for centuries.

It needs no care,
It needs no cleaning,
It needs no repair and
It needs no adornment.

The wind cleans its surface,
The brook slakes its thirst,
The silver grass adorns it,
The cedar protects it.

Sit under the shadow of the tree,
Stretch your vision in a yearning
Beyond the cavernous hollow
And collapse within yourself.

Let your eyes brush past
The shadow under each step,
And watch the grasses sway
And the water glimmer.

Soon you can apprehend
The symbolic significance
Of a journey and the need
To hide in the universe.

August 10, Takao

Moving Spaces, Changing Places

As the train rushes
Towards its destination
You begin to realize that
Nothing belongs to you forever;
Even the coziest place that
You’ve managed to create
By gently shifting your body
And arranging your bags
Exists in a temporary liaison.

Even if you make friends with strangers,
Exchange information about
Weather, music and people
They soon depart with a goodbye
Leaving an aching hollow behind;
You cannot ask for their names,
Or promise to contact them later,
They vanish drop by drop,
Step by step from your consciousness.

You reflect upon the protean condition
And soon realize that movement
Pushes desire into ever-changing shapes,
It leaves incomplete sentences,
Half-formed fantasies in its path.
Desire drips unceasingly
With its own evanescent sadness,
Its own inner cosmic spaces,
Its dissatisfying denouements.

August 2007, Tokyo



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A Door

A dark Burma teak door opens
Silently on its brass hinges,
Leaving its archway brooding
With many thoughts intruding.

It reveals an empty space
Of shadowed light traceries,
Where time’s phantoms find
Ancient knowledge confined.

The door, in its quartefoil hides
A tradition rich in grain and thought,
Giving a glimpse of mysteries sublime
Opening silently the door of the mind.

April 1984, Delhi

Japanese Hedge Bindweed

Just for a brief moment
You can imagine
The delicate innocence
Of primordial creation.

Just for a brief moment
You stand witness to
The past emerging
In the present.

Just for a brief moment
You see enigmatic creation
Emerging as eternity
In innocent transience.


July 2007, Tokyo