Poems By Arjava

THIS water-lily, like a moon,

Slowly came to full

A focussed light, a colour swoon.

Remote, inerrable.

Leaving water, wed with air,

Becrowned with pearls of dew-

Nothing misshapen wanders there,

No evil pierces through.

Ere din of sacrilege pluck sway,

Or empery of Night,

The dreamlike petals every way

Muster their quiet light.