You just think about it,
You just feel about it?
Taking daru, what have you, what have you made yourself,
You just see your face in the mirror
And think about it.
What had you been, what have you become,
You just see your face in the mirror
And say you?
Daru, daru, native or foreign, but wine,
Wine, wine, intoxication intoxication,
Drink you, but be not a drinker,
Let wine not drink you.
Oh, my God!If to ask, what to ask it now,My God?He has not,But I have the hands.
Is he a misanthropist,A man-hater,A hater of man?If not, why does he indulge inWars mindlessly, unnecessarily?
GodWhatever bones,Skeleton bones and bitsWant YouFrom meAs Your shastras,Arms and ammunition.With the asthi-kalashaInto the hands of mine,If You wantI shall give to YouThe bones of mineAs for making weaponsLike Dadhichi,Sage Dadhichi.I am a mortal manWith my bones lying uselessIf these could in redemption,Let gods,Let gods be withFor welfare and utilization,Let, let gods,Let gods be with…
One will find the same bare face of the poet,The same unchanged Mahapatra.His imagery whatever be that finally takes toHis utter lapsing into the realms ofNothingness, existentialism and nihilismAnd the poet appears to be bewildered.Instead of giving aesthetic pleasure, the poet tasksThe brain,With his pictures of the dowry deaths, gender prejudice,Domestic violence and bruises and…
Where do they go away?And what about the light?How does it glow and glitterLike a twinkling star?
Leading to the farmhouse withThe galloping horse passing throughThe forest track,Snows falling,You with the saddled horseGoing on horsebackMarking the beauty and mystery,Silence of the woods,The evening falling,Darkening it all,Looming aroundAnd you pausing by,Pausing and passingMarking the evefallWith the temptation of viewingAnd the pull back of loyalty calling,Robert, Robert Frost!
