Moon at Half Past Noon

(zindan ki ek subh)

Night still lingered,
when the moon sat by my pillow
and whispered …

“Arise, the dawn waits.
Arise, for your share of
dream’s sweet wine
has dribbled down
to the bottom of the urn”

Having bid adieu
to the vision of my sweet love,
I glanced at the brunette satin of
night’s still waters

All around, 
the heave and fall of the Raqs (belly dance),
created silver whirls.

The stars dropped like lotuses from
the palms of the moon into the night

They sunk and swam,
they faded and bloomed

Night and morn embraced for long.