Pond

Amidst

a fair pond,

peacefully

floats

a swan.

Wings all white,

immaculate plumage,

limpid

are its eyes.

Quite like a cypress

its slender neck

stands;

it regards

itself in the water.

Serenely it floats

on the surface bright

and diaphanous,

without a ripple.

On the bank

of the sacred pond,

reeds

all around

in great number grow.

Their delicate flowers,

their svelte leaves,

are admirable

to contemplate.

It floats,

the solitary swan,

and in the silence

it sings,

awaiting its mate.

The latter is gone

borne off by an eagle,

and there is no companion

but ardent desire.

On the bank

of the silent pond,

haggard

a swan

painfully moves.

Wings broken,

bones shattered,

thus concludes

the destiny of a swan.

Rustam Effendi
tr. after Damais