Is the belle,
The belle,
The blonde,
The blonde,
The golden, golden beauty,
The glistening, glistening young maid
In the sunlight,
The sunlight
Dazzling,
Dazzling and flashing over,
Flashing over
Her face,
Face
So sweet,
Sweet and lovely,
Lovely and dreamy,
Dreamy and rosy,
Golden,
Golden and glistening!
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The song of love sing I sadly and happily
Who made me grow up,I search them, search themIn my poetry.
Abraham Lincoln the man,
Talk I, sketch IThe portrait of that PresidentWho was more humanAnd republican.A karmayogiHe delivered and worked,Abolished slavery,Worked for the American unionBridging the North and the South.
Shiva-ratri,
Shiva, Shiva, Shiva.The Night of Shiva,Shiva, Shiva, Shiva,How will it be?How, how will it be,Be the Night,The Night of Shiva?Dark, lonely,TempestuousAnd howling!
It was broad daylight
With the panda-dana continuing in,The conventional priest and the bald-headed clientsWere offering together with rolled and rounded food offeringsTo the soul,Dead and bereaved soul,Departed and remembered so earnestlyWith tears into the eyes of the relatives.The sun was blazing hotAs it was summertime,Generally the noon appears to be so,The crows were crowing for food,The villagers too…
Kalpurusha,
See youMan blanketing the dead,Rolling over to burn the deadNear the hilly rivuletAnd you sitting on a rock,By the old peepul or banyan tree,Marking them burn,Hang down the asthi-kalasha,Doing panda-dana thereafter.How, how long,Will you keep doing as thus,O, how, how long,Will you go burning the dead?Kalpurusha, may I ask,Ask,Why, why are you so hard of…
Friends, ladies and gentlemen,
Modern, modernistOr post-modern?You say it,What am I?My modernity,Where is it leading toAnd where am I going,From to colonial to contemporary?