Monday, August 1, 2016

Magical garden

(574)  Maya malaince mayar mukul

In this magical[1] garden, the buds of magic,
With a magic wine, they get besotted.
In the magic desert's hot airstream,
Every grain of sand is flying.

Enchanted by the magic, dawn's red color,
It gets lost in evening's complexion.
Those who come, they will depart,
Bodies daubed with magic's sweetness.
In the play of magic, minds expand;
And the Wizard gently laughs.

Enchanted by the magic, musical airs,
With seven-note scale, they get sung.
Of songs that are done, a trace remains,
By pleasant magic, with good reaction.
This magic is not false; its enduring feats,
Therein the Wizard is dancing.

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1 comment:

  1. Only Baba could argue convincingly that magic is not always illusion.