Images of Transformation

A poem by Hari Prasad Shastri

O moon of delight! I was a weary wind
Blowing over an equatorial desert,
Charged with consuming heat and blinding sand.
You opened to me your garden, full of violets,
Jasmine, syringa and cherry blossom.
I wafted over the field of your heart and was relieved
By the spray from the silver fountain of your garden.
O Love, I was an uncouth marble rock;
Your loving hands have chiselled me into a form of beauty;
Your breath has animated me with the wisdom of devotion.
I was a reed, growing in a muddy pool;
You have transformed me into your flute,
And now soul-ravishing melodies, inspired by the touch of your lips,
Flow from me to delight the poor and the disconsolate on this earth
And also the angels in heaven.