Black Marigolds

Even now
I mind the coming and talking of wise men from towers
Where they had thought away their youth. And I listening,
Found not the salt of the whispers of my girl,
Murmur of confused colors, as we lay near sleep;
Little wise words and little witty words,
Wanton as water, honied with eagerness.

Even now
I mind that I loved cypress and roses, clear
The great blue mountains and the small gray hills,
The sounding of the sea. Upon a day
I saw strange eyes and hands like butterflies;
For me at morning larks flew from the thyme
And children came to bathe in little streams.

Even now,
I know that I have savored the hot taste of life
Lifting green cups to gold at the great feast.
Just for a small and a forgotten time
I have had full in my eyes from off my girl
The whitest pouring of eternal light---


From “Black Marigolds” translated from the Sanskrit from E. Powys Mathers as quoted by John Steinbeck in Cannery Row.

Black Marigolds is also known as the Chaurapanchasika: The Fifty Stanzas of Chauras