—after the 1976 Hindi film Laila Majnu
Death is not so cruel.
Does the nightingale not see
the bleeding rose, how she tears
her collar, her very flesh?
He is mad, she pleads. He is mad.
I am to blame: It was I
who stole his senses.
Stone me,
bring me to the scaffold.
Come once,
just once
to see her forehead
clear as a mirror
rubbing itself into dust.
Show the Gods of the Age
that the world is not full of snow.