Time to turn back. I think. Too long
I've blackened my hands!
Yet never knew you, as you would.

Now when I stand at a cliff edge at night
The moon calls: Come, come.
On the bank of the Ganga in my sleep
The pyre calls: Come, come.

I could go.
Whenever. Wherever.
But why? Would I?

I shall plant a kiss on my child’s face.

I shall go.
But not just now.
Each one of you I shall take along.
I shall not go alone. Not before it is time.