Evening in Puri
Both sky and water have turned red,
The Bay of Bengal,
The colors of Bengal’s flame spread,
From the water,
They expand and disperse, fall, and rise again,
The bloody sun, majestically and terrifyingly, into the water rolls
Like a ship engulfed in fire,
And every tiny metal bell from some temple tolls,
Weeps.

Nowhere a soul,
Neither beast nor man.
Alone!
Into the hot golden sand my feet sink;
Across the barren, sandy stretch, past the tall dunes
I have made my weary way:
I walk, I search, I look, I choose
A place
For my transient earthly stay…
Oh, no!
But to prepare for my eternal home, -
For the pyre,
While the sun, majestically terrifying, into the water rolls
And every tiny metal bell from that temple still tolls,
Weeps

Who died, oh, if only I could know!?
Old or young, in strength still full and aglow?...
Behold!
Whose pyre is smoking there, by the water,
Still smoking slightly?
Who wove and laid a wreath
Beside it,
A yellow sacrificial wreath?
Oh, did he set off with sorrow or with joy
On his eternal journey?

*
The bloody sun sank into the blood-red waters
Majestically terrifying
As a ship engulfed in fire sinks low,
The colors of Bengal’s flame fade, like flames losing their glow,
And the large white stars light up, one by one.

Evening.
My feet sink once again into the hot sand:
I am returning;
Joy has given me flight, lightened my way:
For as the sun’s last ray began to fade away,
Before the tropical night would spread its dark wings:
On the golden shore of the Bay of Bengal –
I found a place for my pyre…

Bells from another temple toll,
They sing
(They do not weep):
“Into a better life one goes...”

Bay of Bengal!
A magnificent crystal urn for my ashes as well;
A tomb without bottom, and without limit,
An eternal home where eternal darkness does not reign

And the soul began to sing from its immortal throat
A song,
Like a bird at dawn when it takes flight from its transient nest

K Suncu za Sunce (To the Sun, for the Sun) pp. 23–24.