On summer nights, when the wind blows
I go to sleep, sprawled on the roof,
Watching the stars and constellations
With an old book lying next to me
On the white sheet, jasmine-scented;
My troubles lie earthward, with me.
But how far are the stars, how silent!
Beyond the tidy sleeping houses
A homeless man, lying in the park,
Keeps an eye out for the touring cops;
He hears the wind in the Neem leaves;
An abandoned dog has made his home
Among the waste-bins on my doorstep;
He too hears the rustling wind
As it washes over the silent night;
In our sleeplessness we are alike.
Our eyes are set on the heavens:
Like the wind we are of this earth
But our hearts are stuck on the stars.