A withered leaf and a butterfly

The flocks of birds from the North

Fly away to the tip of the South.

The sky in October is hesitating to rain.

At that moment, that particular moment,

I happen to witness a special movement

That is, of course, a part of me

And, perhaps, one and the same US.

A brown leaf is falling straight

From a slanting branch of a jackfruit tree.

A butterfly in multi-coloured attire

Is taking off, flying up and up.

At a very special point,

On a single line,

An invisible thread,

They are both one and the same.

Which is the dry leaf?

Which is the butterfly?

One goes up and up into the sky,

The other comes down to rest on Mother Earth.

During Meditation

There comes, inwardly,

The dry leaf and the butterfly.

(translated from the Tamil)