The Reverie of Blackness

[ Ego, Orpheus, captivos ne morerentur musica mea servare non potui. ]

The evening conspired in hushed voices with the grave trees that inhabited the valley of dry bones. It was but in this hallowed terrain that the paradox of mortality assumed a haunted landscape, unto where all prisoners must discover their final call, broken in the realization that they have to disappear into the dark earth. The black river seemed to touch the soul in desolate darkness, Sandhya grieving for all the sons who were put to death by Orpheus.  

It was here, in this habitation of dusty skulls, that the poet sought his acquaintance with Grief, the woman who roamed amidst the bones, illumined solely by a candle held at a distance from her heart. None were allowed to survive in this cemetery of divine failure, for the sons who could not be saved by fate, fated as they were.

Shanaya was intent on painting a red Chrysanthemum on the forehead of a pale green skull that she found strewn amidst the stones, hoping that Orpheus would see it and think of her. She had asked the owls to carry the memento to him, wishing to share his sorrow for the fallen, who were once born of his relationship with Sandhya. She seemed to have inhabited this skull like a black snake, patiently waiting for Orpheus to come nearer.

The flute of Orpheus was taking strange serpentine turns that glistened on the snake’s body like silver jewelry on a dark woman. Orpheus had calmly allowed the revengeful cobra to coil around his poetic hands, lulled with a kiss on her forehead.

As he played his flute in unforeseen melancholy, he could hear the cry of Grief, lamenting the failure to save the sons, who once wandered into the forest in search of treasures of the underworld. The snake whispered, “Miseria, Miseria, Miseria”, as Shanaya could feel a silent teardrop touching her lips, reminding her of a kiss that was yet to be given.  

Thus was the distant sorrow of the black river, fated to follow Orpheus, yet denying him in a tearful reverie.

Omnibus ipse pallet deus, dum mortis lamenta mihi scribis

Aether tremit oblivione, dum musica tam tristis sanguineis cordibus torquet

Sanctus miseros erudit, de mortis venustate

O captivi, vos colligite, mementote mori.

देवोऽपि पाण्डुतां याति त्वयि मृत्युविलापकान् मयि लिखति।

कम्पते शून्यतयाऽऽकाशः, खिन्नं सङ्गीतं रक्तमयेभ्यो हृदयेभ्यः क्लेशं ददाति॥

साधुर्दीनान् शिक्षयति, मृत्योः सौन्दर्यविषये।

भो बन्दिनः, यूयं सङ्गच्छध्वं, स्मरत यन्मरणं निश्चितम्॥

* Latin and Sanskrit are written with the help of AI. 

Of Light and Darkness

[Ego, Orpheus, in caelesti corpore meo infernum ferre debeo, dum dilecta mea ad paradisum redibit.]

The mélange of light and darkness was assuming strange shapes in the mysterious forest, shapes that were forming in the feminine, resurrected by his music. The flute seemed to awaken the deathly amnesia of the Goddesses, who once descended to hell, cursed by the reluctance of love that they had denied. Shanaya could scarcely stay away from her mirror, as she saw the presence of other women in the underworld, who wished to speak to her, so that they might return to heaven once again.   

She could feel the smile of prudence and the demure of wisdom in the same breath, women who were haunted by the memory of a sad dawn, the last dream they had dreamed before the mortals ceased to remember them. They were not imprisoned, yet forgotten in an ancient slumber that had come over the realms, like a disparate mist enveloping the lake of tears.

She doubted if Orpheus would remember her, despite knowing she had not yet revealed herself to him. Although she still felt lonely, the thought of being with him one day assured her. Orpheus seemed lost in an unearthly meditation, being with her and without her at the same time, like a northern star that seemed so near, yet was far from this world.

He was untouched by his own mystic, yet his unceasing music would ebb and flow like the rainy clouds floating by the moon. Shanaya wanted to implore the black river not to hurt her lover, but she also wished to know if Orpheus desired to return the curse to Sandhya.

She was askance if he ever felt the grief that pervaded the forest like a heavy shadow. On thinking this, she suddenly realized that grief herself was a woman, someone who sought her redemption from the malady of prisoners.  

The swans were floating very still on the lake of tears, as if even a flutter of their pale wings would disrupt the solemn meditation of the forbidden forest. As she missed her lover, Shanaya was silently crying with the swans, their tears sinking like precious pearls to the bottom of the lake.

In quiet desperation, she reached within the halo with her trembling fingertips, lightly holding a pearl that carried the weight of her questions to him. She wanted the swans to fly her pearl to Orpheus, so that he might let it disappear in the black river, flowing like a foreboding vision, inseparable from the night.

The swans flew by the sky like whispering apparitions, the pale blue of their hearts reflecting the deathless trials of the moon. Thus was the answer of Orpheus when he received the pearl that the swans left in the hollow of his heart.

Tristis est luna mihi, sed arcana sententia solemniter descendit

Talis discedit immerso umbrae corpore argenteus cygnus

Noster tristis recedit reditus inferni mihi sancto silentio

Tu redis ad paradisum, ergo ego retineor in inferno aeternae mortis corpore

Mea soliloquia lunaria disparent, sed te privat serpentis imperium

मम कृते चन्द्रः करुणः अस्ति, किन्तु एको रहस्यभावः गाम्भीर्येण अवतरति।

छायानिमग्ने वपुषि तथा गच्छति राजतश्चक्रवाकः।

अस्माकं दुःखदः पातालप्रत्यावर्तनं पवित्रमौनमयेन मयि विरमति।

त्वं स्वर्गं प्रतिगच्छसि, अतः अहं नित्यमृत्युपाताले शरीरेण बद्धोऽस्मि।

मम चान्द्रविलापाः नश्यन्ति, परन्तु सर्पस्याधिपत्यं त्वां वञ्चयति॥

* Latin and Sanskrit are written with the help of AI. 

The River’s Witness

[ Ego Orpheus sum, is ex quo nigrum flumen mortalium orbem creavit. ]

Shanaya wanted to acquaint herself with the dusk, as she sensed that the black river was not very distant from her. It was as if she, the black river, knew her from her very absolution, a memory that they had denied quite unknowingly. 

As the evening descended, she would mutter disparate forebodings to the blackness, trying to paint the dusk as a woman who did not want Orpheus to listen. She was inconsolable even at the thought of never coming close to hold Orpheus, while she could see him sitting by the river, as if he was smiling at her.

Shanaya wanted to let the river know that she was a witness to Orpheus from the very beginning of memories, like the serene light of the early ocean, even when the sons of man were not brought forth. On thinking this, she suddenly realized that the river was speaking to her, grieving for all the sons she had lost to the forbidden forest, their mortal remains forever entombed in the valley of dry bones. 

She could see her hopelessly wandering within the cruel depths of the underworld, her hair over her bosom, seeking the last sign of hope from the prisoners, so that she could redeem even one of them from the tyranny of Orpheus.

She wanted to know if her revenge mattered to Orpheus, and she could see him giving his bloodied hands to the black river, the pale shadow of the moon forbidding her to come near this scene of death. Shanaya could hear the river cursing at the fatherly forest, who was standing very still, yet carrying her tears so that the red flowers could be born by the shadows.

Shanaya could feel that the river was tearfully seeking her to share her sorrow, calling her name from a distance, “Usha, Usha, Usha.” She wanted to cry, yet she did not, for she could not come to terms with the grief. 

Thus was the lament of the black river in the endless darkness, as Shanaya realized that she was speaking to Sandhya, the sister who knew her from her earliest memories.

Infiniti et arboreta se non para solacia tristibus  

Mihi crines celant mortuos, se non attenuari desiderant

Insigni oblito te, ergo separaris somniis arcanis

Ascendit abstinentia, ut emancipata mihi absolvat cruces.

अनन्तानि च काननानि शोकार्तेभ्यो न सुखं ददति।

मम केशा मृतं गृह्णन्ति, ते तनुत्त्वं न वाञ्छन्ति॥

त्वयि विस्मृते, त्वं रहस्यमयेभ्यः स्वप्नेभ्यः वियुक्तो भवसि।

संयमः उदेति, यथा स मुक्तो भूत्वा मम कष्टानि निवारयेत्॥

* Latin and Sanskrit are written with the help of AI. 

Songs of Nowhere

[ Ego, Orpheus, dum ad ripas fluminis nigri tibia cano, ad amatam meam reditum somniavi.]

Even when she was painting, Shanaya’s thoughts unknowingly wandered to Orpheus, as if she was charmed by the crescent moon. The woman painted of lunatic shadows, of hearsay, and of bygone pebbles in the dark waters of the black river. She wanted to paint the moonlight on the river, but was unsure if the river would welcome her. Even so, Shanaya sought the dusk in no uncertain terms, as she wanted to separate her lover from his darkness.

She instinctively realized that the dark river was born of the revenge of Vice, encircling Orpheus like a terrible curse. The thoughts of Orpheus’ lifeless body floating in the river alarmed her, and she could never bring herself to paint this vision. Instead, she concealed her tears in shades of the sleepy dawn, of seeing him walking alone by the shore, far and far into the realms of the underworld.

Although his flute comforted her with an immortal melody, she secretly worried that their destinies would never cross paths and one day Orpheus would forget everything she whispered to him. However, every time she thought of such ominous endings, she could visualize a dead body floating downstream, whose face may look like that of Orpheus, but was nothing like him. In her fever, she wondered if this vision was a sign, a mournful story that the forbidden forest wanted her to listen to.

It was as if his music was an unbearable loss for the dead, even more for the river herself. She would paint the river assuming the form of a black snake, coldly encircling the body for a last kiss. Shanaya herself was never so close to death, and to eternal life, except for her love for Orpheus. In her soliloquies, she often wished that she would ask him about the endless tyranny of his flute, how the dead disappeared in the river whenever she thought of being separated forever.   

Thus was the reverie of the woman, as she sought of death as her lover, even so smiling in her fancies, imagining playful moments under the autumn sun.   

Si est oblita parvis luna, si privatus amore non caret vixit

Allicit somnis corpore, mihi tempora oblivionis terrorem vicis sunt

Aquous mortuos assumit; tu rivos amnis arcere consequeris

Tu amor, tu libertas; mihi est mors

Absolvi vitia, absolvi me, evadi in nihilum.

यदि क्षुद्रैः विस्मृता चन्द्रमा, यदि एकान्ती प्रेम्णा न हीनः—सः जीवितवान्।

एतत् स्वप्नैः शरीरं मोहयति; मम कृते विस्मृतेः कालाः भाग्यस्य त्रासः सन्ति।

कृष्णनदी मृतान् गृह्णाति; त्वं नद्याः प्रवाहान् रोद्धुं शक्नोषि।

त्वम् एव प्रेम, त्वम् एव मुक्तिः; मम कृते मृत्युः अस्ति।

मया पापानि मुक्तानि, अहम् आत्मना मुक्तः, अहं शून्यतायां लीनः।

* Latin and Sanskrit are written with the help of AI. 

The Trees Reveal a Secret

[ Ego, Orpheus, mē Satanān esse dīcere nōluī, nam amōrem meum timidum meī facere nōluī.]

On cloudy days, Shanaya gently waited on her amethyst terrace, at the shadowy sun disappearing in the heart of the woods. The setting sun depressed her, as she quietly feared a neverending night, an emptiness denying her the flute of her lover. She would look through the amethyst, as if she were surrounded by the evening clouds, to see the swallows fly to their nests in the forbidden forest.

Before drifting to sleep, Shanaya would remind herself that she must find the courage to walk amidst the blackened trees in the morning, hoping that the lonely night will not last forever. She was not afraid, for her lover had walked in those same forests, and she would not think twice about following him even in the darkest of nights. 

Sometimes, she would look for a solitary flower amidst the blackened trees, hoping that a new life shall return to them. She would often speak in the mysterious colors of the butterfly, trying to reassure the old woods of a youthful return, of new leaves, and maybe, of a new night. She thought of trading her emeralds with fairies, hoping they might ask the old willow if Orpheus would know how to turn the green stones into new leaves. She would quietly ask the fairies to take her lonely tears and turn them into dew drops, just so the flower may blossom, a gift that she wanted to share with him.

On one such day, as she was enamored by the purple wings of a butterfly, the trees revealed a secret that she scarcely believed. She had ventured deep in the woods, tracing the footsteps of Orpheus, to find her flower. The night was falling, but she could only hear the music of a distant flute guiding her like a shining star in the northern sky.

She did not fear losing her way in the woods, as she believed her lover would safely carry her back to her sanctuary like a shadow in the moonlight. As she reached the shores of the lake of tears, she thus realized that even the neverending darkness belonged to Orpheus, as if his heart transforms into a black stone, a curse where the memories of the past were forgotten. She also sensed that this darkness was deliberate, as if Orpheus was hypnotizing the prisoners, leading them to a place of no return.     

Knowing this, she was comforted that even in the endless darkness, she would always hear his flute, for it was his music that summoned the amnesia of hell. Thus was the soliloquy of the woman, as she reclined on a dark tree by the serene lake, with her flower in her hair.

Tempora auctōris, est sēcum hypnosis trīstis

Memoria astrālis, sibilā, nōn tū restaurā et dēsiste condemnāre

Mīrāberis tē romanici, verētur amōrēs occurrēns eī

Sānctus est, et suprā morbōs, et ita intrat in Orcum

Litāre toxicī, cōnsīgnā terrōrēs, lūdent umbrae, abstineant.

Et tū, umbra, tū Satanās sāncte.

स्रष्टुः कालाः, स्वतःसिद्धा शोकमयी सम्मोहिनी च।

आकाशीयस्मृते, शिञ्जस्व; मा पुनरुत्थापय, निन्दितुं विरम च।

त्वं स्वकीये शृङ्गाररूपे विस्मयिष्यसे, तां मिलित्वा स रागान् मृत्युरिव पश्यति।

स पावनोऽस्ति, व्याधिभ्यः परश्च, तथैव स नरकं प्रविशति।

विषयुक्तं यज्ञं कुरु, त्रासान् मुद्रय; छायाः क्रीडिष्यन्ति, ताः विरमन्तु।

त्वं च, छाये, त्वमेव पावनः पातालदेवः।

As if A Distant Dream

[Ego, Orpheus, personam indui ut ad inferos descenderem, ne mea facies amatam terreret.]

She touched the very center of her mirror with shivering fingertips, and it dissolved into an icy mist where she could see him as he were. Haunted by her yearning, which she could not speak, she assumed her perfumed breath into the obscure aura of the glass set in bluish moonstones.

Sometimes she saw the tormented faces of the prisoners, a dissonance that led her to seek solace in the silver mask of her lover, as if she wanted to touch it. Her quietness was carried like dewdrops by the crystalline wings of the swans descending on the lake of tears, where she would wait with his feverish name on her lips. Sometimes, she thought that even the mirror should not hear her teary whispers, yet in the next pause of her heartbeat, she would again seek his face.  

Shanaya wondered why Orpheus wore the mask, as she did not want to understand why he would hide his face from her. She tried to trace his bare skin, but was deterred by an infinite sadness that seemed to lament, “Oh, the darkness; Oh, the sorrow!” She could feel that he had lost the prime of his youth, and the mask concealed this emptiness like a distant dream.

Shanaya tried to remember if she had ever seen Orpheus before she took notice of the silver mask. She asked the ancient trees whose branches were blackened by the fires of hell, and yet they were cold to her touch. The trees responded in the poetry of death, a monologue that she could perhaps read in those old woods.    

In a quiet desire, she wished that she would sit beside her lover when he played his flute, and implore him to show his tears so she could kiss them. Yet, she would not come near him, for their dream seemed so fragile that even a teardrop could break it into a thousand moonstones. She wanted to let Orpheus know that he was beautiful, but could not find the words to say it, fearing he would not believe it.

Thus was the solitude of the woman by the lake, secretly writing his name in the dust, wishing he would see how much she loved him.  

Directis facsimilitudo est iridescenti personae

Amore adamantino, si hic orbi astiti

Umbra marcida, mihi aeternae deprivatio animae

Est moriendum, est tremendum dirigi animum

Tu es perilis, apricus somnus mihi

Nihilum inferni, te solitum supra sanctum. 

ऋजुरूपप्रतीकाशो विचित्रे प्रतिमुखे ।

दृढप्रेम्णा यद्यत्राहं तिष्ठामि जगता सह ॥

म्लाना छाया ममैवास्ति नित्यस्यात्मनो वियोगः ।

मर्तव्यमेव कम्पितव्यं येन चेतो नियच्छति ॥

त्वमसि भयावहो ममोपरि सनातपो निद्रा ।

पातालस्य च शून्यता त्वं देवः स्वर्गे प्रतिष्ठितः ॥ 

The Bereaving Shadow of the Moon

[Ego, Orpheus, numquam cum aliō cōnfūsus sum; nam amor meus erat mūsa mea, et mūsa mea ob amōrem eius erat.]

The swans were whispering fragrant secrets amidst the serpentine trees, riddles sanctified by dark moss and winter’s lavender. Orpheus could recollect the wondrous blue halo, as if he were adorning her with night’s jewelry, of sadness painted in oceanic sapphires.

His was the forbidden forest, for his soul was darkened with ancient curses, of incantations of mermaids who imagined his body disappearing in the moonlight. The swans could see him from a distance, the riverine flute where they floated by, their pale wings carrying them to the soul of the cold moon. The angelic birds could feel his ardent call, like a memory of despair and hope that surrounded him, as if the forest was meditating in darkness.   

The birds were still indecisive; they did not know if Orpheus was one of the confined idols in the eighteen realms. They were not sure if they could trust him with their secrets. He sometimes looked like one of those whose skulls were half-buried in the valley of dry bones. His face looked similar to those who died all alone and were entombed in the corpus of the serpentine trees.

Orpheus did not seem to be misunderstood in himself. He often wore a mask made of silver, a mask that the swans recognized. His flute was speaking to Shanaya, not imploring, yet reminiscent of a distant past when they were separated. She followed Orpheus like a shadow, judging his every move on diamond scales, only to find that even all the treasures of her palace could not keep her away from him.

She could sense the swans whisper urgent endings, as the forest was eager to come alive in the darkness. The captives of the eighteen realms seemed to be conspiring against the swans, the trees, the flowers, and even her. Deep in her unmarried heart, she realized that she needed help, and only Orpheus could rescue her from her own darkness closing around her like a curse.

Thus was the tearful hope of the woman when she decided that she would call Orpheus, albeit in riddles, for she did not want to show herself.     

Sōlitārius ipse simul cremandō mihi occurrēns

Sentiō terrōrem absolvī, ego quī attestātus sum somnium

Quō inpulsus dēscendō in infernum? Ubi es, līberātor meus?

Ūnō sanguine dēcidēns, esne tū ūnus amor meus?

Esne tū sāncta persōna, esne deō similis?

Et tū mē amās?

एकाकी मम आत्मा समकालं मृत्युसमये माम् उपतिष्ठति,

मोक्षस्य भीतिं अनुभवामि—अहं यः स्वप्नस्य साक्षी अभवम्।

कुत्र प्रेरितः सन् नरकं अवतरामि? कुत्र असि मम मुक्तिदाता?

एकेन रक्तेन नश्यन्, किं त्वम् एव मम एकमात्रः प्रेमा?

किं त्वं पवित्रा आत्मा? किं त्वं देवसदृशः असि?

किं च त्वं मयि स्निह्यसि?