In the dust raised by returning cows,
Faint stars glow from time to time.
The night still stands
Outside the village.
The peepal ties bells
Around its ankles:
The tinkling sound of bells.
Lit lanterns
In the niches,
Laughing faces.
With peacock feathers,
I am drawing the moon-teeka
On the canvas of the sky,
And the dropping leaf of the sun.
Tr. Baidar Bakht
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