At Evening

Let me now sleep,

let me not think,

let me Not ache with inconsistent tenderness.

It was untenable delight;

we are free--Separate,

equal--and if loverless,

Love consumes time which is more dear than love,

More unreplicable. With everything

Thus posited, the choice was clear enough

And daylight ratified our reckoning.
Now only movement marks the birds from the pines;

Now it's dark; the blinded stars appear;

I am alone, you cannot read these lines

Who are with me when no one else is here,

Who are with me and cannot hear my voice

And take my hand and abrogate the choice.

Vikram Seth