When the well dries out
No reflection to see for the eyes.
Just lean in and call upon to feel
The depth of that dark hole.
The pleasure that echo of your voice yields
As it ebbs out to touch your being
And disappears beyond fields,
Where in gentle breeze
Moves the sunflower with ease
And the young cow-herd sleeps
At the edge of mustard fields.
The tranquil heart
Now weary and vacant
Bereft of your visage
Sits on the wellhead
Longing to hear the echoes
Elongating in silvery streaks.
O! Creative urge!
Where have you vanished!
Sitting on the wellhead
In empty stretched out hours,
The vast landscape opens again,
Water from well seeps into eyes.
You become the landscape!
The dawn energizes!
The sunset smiles!
The echoes resign!
O! My love
There I see you!
Floating among bees,
Above sunflower and reeds!
Behind watery eyes
You become I!
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