Frankfurt winter ~

Twilight walk along the placid river ~

Empty park, empty chairs

diffused illuminations ~

The old man smoking a pipe,

vanishing into biillows of mist ~

The geometry of the universe recrudescent

fizzled in our sacred limbs ~

Our breath visible, white

mingled in free space.

We should have held hands

in traditional silence:

Instead you spoke of Tchaikovsky

your father’s idiosyncrasies

about your niece who insisted,

on her tobler chocolates.

True to my stupidity

I discoursed elaborately

on “Khayaal” and “Dhrupad”

on the mysticism of music

on eternal wisdom,

revealed, in everyday things.

Your eyes sparkled

like little dawns

in the chaste darkness.

Always unspoken the great feelings~

Infinite Silence submerged,

the invisible horizon.

We became children oblivious

of the cosmos spreading around us

oblivious, of the ancient dreams

of our magic bodies.

Note~ “Khayaal” and “Dhrupad” are the two versions of traditional Hindusthani Classical Music. Dhrupad is the ancient tradition and the Khayaal is more modern. To be competent in these vast musical disciplines, enormous training and Grace are a necessity. Even to be a Good listener, it takes patient study and intense listening for a long period.