You glanced from the riverside, in rags,
With eyes that penetrated silence and stones,
In these hours when my spirit flags,
Your nectar enlivens my bones
You, who loved God, like the taste,
Of green mangoes or urchin eyes,
Of temple incense, of sandal paste—
Of one man’s truth and another’s lies.
Your frenzy made Shyama smile,
In the middle of her cathartic rage,
Until pandits and borgis sang awhile,
Sans the memory of time and place
In your insanity, saints wandered free,
That even a fool like me could see
Arup K. Chatterjee 