The Sun at Benaras

The Sun at Benaras (Satis Shroff)

My eyes and mind were fading

Under the rays of the scorching sun.

I was at Benaras,

Standing in the polluted

But holy river.

Half naked,

With a sacred thread,

Greeting Surya,

The child of dawn,

The great source of light

And warmth:

The Sun.

You are the nourisher,

The brilliant light-maker,

The eye of the world,

The witness of men´s deeds.

Oh, you king of the constellations,

You,

Who possesses a thousand rays.

I was mumbling a Sanskrit litany,

I´d learned from my dear Mom :

Hara, hara Gungay,

Saba paapa langay.

Dancing Eyes (Satis Shroff)

The dancing floor,

A heaven to those

Who know how to dance:

The salsa, samba, tango,

The fox and the waltz.

How many shoe soles have I danced,

How may souls have I conquered?

Here I am,

Longing for a dance,

A paraplegic dancer.

I dance now

With my eyes,

Even when I seem

To gaze in the distance.

I hear wonderful melodies

From the Spring of my life.

I dance now

In my mind.

Isolation (Satis Shroff)

She had a small soul

And little education.

She gave,

But sought

Something else in return.

She loved her husband,

Pampered him in society,

For all to see.

Did she love him,

Or his wallet?

And things money can buy.

She shielded him from his friends,

With whom he´d fought

In the trenches of Stalingrad,

Cornered together like rats,

And prayed when Stalin´s Orgel

Screamed murderously over them.

He needed love and care

After the trauma of war.

Woke up in sleep

With nightmares of the krieg.

He gave up his camarades,

For a wife who said she loved him.

They had sauerkraut and spätzle,

Watched tennis and thrillers on TV,

And had no time for others.

Lonesome pensioners,

In self-inflicted isolation.

What came was depression,

Failing sensory organs,

Sans eyes,

Sans friends.

Varicose veins,

Cerebral sclerosis,

Alzheimer and strokes.

The light went out.

Was someone out there?

The Feud (Satis Shroff)

The feud I fought

Was not whole heartedly.

I handed it to a lawyer,

Who made a hash of it,

And a judge who was subjective.

I had to pay a heavy loss.

Would it have been better,

Had I put my heart

Into the feud?

Can I forget it,

But not forgive?

Can you forgive,

But not forget?

Questions that still

Torment my soul.

Wine (Satis Shroff)

He who drinks sings,

He who drinks sinks,

You say.

He who drinks

Drops and spills

His wine,

His self,

His Ich

His life.

And when it´s spilt,

Can you still drink?

Or is it the wine

That spilt your life?

Seduction (Satis Shroff)

Why do you run after me?

You are seduced by my voice,

My style and verse.

Follow your heart,

Your own words.

Till then,

We go different ways.

We follow different paths,

Though we hear the same rhythm.

And in doing so,

We meet again.

Aufwiedersehen,

Arrividerci.

The Whiteness in the Zone of Death (Satis Shroff)

The best view of the world

Is from the top of the highest mountain,

The Abode of the Gods.

The best way to climb a peak

Is not to give it

A single thought.

Think of a thousand other things,´

Said the climber from abroad,

To the sherpa.

Suddenly it became stormy,

The dreaded whiteout came

With howling, biting winds,

Tons of snow everywhere.

The sahib had only a single thought.

Hilf mir, O Gott!´

And cried like a new born baby,

Scared of the wilderness,

Scared of the whiteness

That surrounded him.

He found the sherpa,

Who said:

Here, where you stand,

Is almost the summit, Sir.

Welcome to the Abode of the Gods.´

The abode of what?´

The Gods,´ said the sherpa.

The climber turned around:

Whiteness in the death zone,

As far as he could imagine.

A step to the right,

A step behind,

And a blood-curdling scream.

Swallowed by a treacherous crevice.

The half-frozen sherpa mumbled,

Om mane peme hum,

Vajra guru peme siddhay hum!´

Till sunrise.

He opened his eyes,

Thanked the Gods of the Himalayas

For saving his life,

Felt sorry for the sahib,

And descended with a heavy heart.