Look! It is the
time of autumn, and the wind is blowing; the leaves, crisp and yellow, are
preparing their adieu. Now look again! The dervish has stopped whirling and is
on his knees; the wine in his cup is finished, and the Saki has left.
He has retired
to his lodge where the wind is teasing the candle’s flame. He cannot go back to
fill the cups: he has become intoxicated by the sight of spinning. Who has the
eyes to look into his heart and say if he was (not) envious of the dervish who
seeks closeness to his god through elaborate whirling?
And while you
were contemplating this question, you forgot about the leaves. They have
fallen; and look yet again! They too are whirling; some Saki filled their cups
with the winds of autumn.
Ashish Khetarpal was born in the city of
Meerut and has been writing poetry since the age of sixteen. After studying
English Literature in India, he moved to France as an English Language
assistant in a school. He divides his time between India and Rennes. When the Wind Blows is his first book.