golden drop
At the bridge, I stood
lately in the brown night.
From afar came a song:
as a golden drop, it welled
over the quivering surface.
Gondolas, lights, and music —
drunken it swam out into the twilight.
My soul, a stringed instrument,
sang to itself, invisibly touched,
a secret gondola song,
quivering with iridescent happiness...
Kishore Madhavan, India, Thrissur