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Shyama's Bansuri
Shyama's Bansuri
Just not a hallowed bamboo piece
it is shyama's bansuri.
With the touch
of his mysterious fingers
countless tunes of melody
seduce countless women,
a lifeless thing assumes life
with his note.
His oblique eyes
quicken and quiver
my heart of thousand thoughts,
my blood and breath regale
and I become
a new archetype of youth.
Today Yamuna breaks its banks,
her youth joyfully overflows
yearning to touch
his ageless feet.
Gopis and I too
in lunatic madness run
chasing his shadow.
We forget the near and dear
>when his bansuri plays
the spring wave of love
at Bridavan.
The moment we are entwined
grey leaves become green,
faded flowers begin to blossom,
slivery moon and stars
blink ecstasy beyond words.
Our sorrows take wings and fly
to unknown horizons,
our honeyed happiness descends
like a saint with a sceptre
as if from a cliff of Himalayas.
I know my Kanha,
he is the bansuri of my heart
I am yet to take
his tunes in my lips.
My Krishna , my Kanha, my Govinda
you are the spirit behind all music
governing life and the cosmos
