I hold the stars of night,
As witnesses.
The boughs of the ground
And fireflies in the heart of the forest
And those two oak trees in your backyard
And the lake that flows to the east-
They all bear witnesses of my presence.
I am known,
To the kingfisher that sits idle
Over the sparkling stream of the river
Even the clouds in the high recognizes me!
I am no visitor,
I am no pedestrian from a distant land,
I am no stranger,
I am no stranger, for
I was always here,
In my own dreamy ways!
I am always here,
And that means being in every corner,
Every place...
I am no stranger, for this
Blazing sun, tropical wind
And tired clouds know me.
Even the songbirds recognize me.
They know,
I am no imposter.
These ripened new autumn crops are witnesses
And also those morning dews
On the sharp blade of grass-leaves
And those autumn nights
Covered in the blanket
Of fresh new moonlight-
They all know me.
I know them.
I also know,
The look of that old fishmonger,
Those eyes that are shattered with the fear of death.
I know him,
For I am his long, lost friend,
Dear to his heart.
And I also know,
The dead house of the weak maid,
Cursed with poverty.
Touch the hull of your boat,
You restless boatman.
And see,
How deep my handprints drown there.
Get down to your knees
And you will find...My spreading scent,
In the depth of fertile soil.
And believe me...I am no stranger!
These lines of crop-fields,
Where the thin alleys of earth goes deep.
And then the empty bed of river-
I am in the sense of this presence.
I am no one but,
A spell bounded child,
Of this distant water.
