Fire-Muse of the splendid, burning timelessly

Muse of Night is the sleep and her dream the never-seen,

A glory deepening in wakefulness of the stars:

Her voice is the tranquil stream’s, through wood and wood

A surge of waves in tangled quest of the sea;

Not a kindled flame but withheld lustre of life

Is reposed in the dark well of her eyeless look.

Muse of Light is the word in ruby breath of the dawn,

A sight breaking in chants of the early birds:

Her haste is the chariot racing with the wind’s,

As though to find the strange invisible all where;

Not horses but sounds of hooved triumph invade

Heaven’s dumbnesses: in her rhythms hurries delight.

Oh the one widely borne by the two mothers,

Fire-Muse of the splendid, burning timelessly!

RY Deshpande

2 May 1984