O’ how that I would wish to be 

A Himalayan prayer scarf. 

Floating close above each shoulder 

Upon the beaten path. 

 

Heart strings woven, badly hemmed, 

Into the frays of white and gold. 

You’d lie me down upon a teapot, 

Listen; the words of a pilgrim, told 

 

Through neck and bedlam. Forsooth I’d live 

Upon the aged monks brown skull. 

As a hark to battered stories knitted 

Into an ancient batch of tulle. 

 

Without knowledge, rhyme, reason or song 

Winds would tangle me eastward, still, 

Were I discarded, begetting mares 

I might land upon your foothill. 

 

O’ that i would wish to be a 

Himalayan prayer scarf 

I’d take my silky limbs and wrap 

Them around your blinding heart. 

 

If value’s placed upon that which 

Is enveloped in this Tallit sew, 

Then I confess, though I digress 

मैं तुम्हारी प्रार्थना स्कार्फ हूँ