The Ruba'Iyat of Creteil Lake - Part Three

The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Three Note: I do hope it’s clear to readers by now that – strictly speaking – in these ruba’iyat, I deviate from the original Persian medieval model, introduced by Rudaki in Ghazna, in that I do away with the 7-syllable hemistich and even the 14-syllable line of the couplet in order to create a longer more breathless ruba’i of my own. I adhere only to the intent and the tone at large. Apologies to Master Khayyam and his ilk. Then as the dawn comes creeping through the dull cold listless haze Shattered by nitpicking crows still in their tuxedo craze Raucous squawks remind her to take that woollen mantle off And stretch her legs just where her feet splintered the brittle glaze Yet no one had ever seen her curious darling eyes Her fronds of glaucous eye-lashes lie under thin ice On some frosty winter morn gusts shake her locks threadbare loose While some Himalayan pine bucked her will long bent with vice No frog croaks nor cicadas cut into eerie silence And the vapours of sticky unkempt limbs hang low and dense The forsaken dame dreams on as on every December morn No carbide stench of Bastille Day fireworks will choke her sense On such lone nights when joggers dare not dig into her sides She’d unclasp her python coils to search through shopping guides For sherwanis and sarees to rouse Khayyam from his cup While the svelte lass from Lahore wanders in her coils besides Come winter! Come shine! This life’s nothing but a longing grind Each in his own way dying to find his own special kind If that happens, will this world be bereft of its only quest For never does the search bring together two of the right kind! © T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013