Where are you going
With the small statue
Of Ganesha?
Even being in the clumsy frock
Living in tents
By the roadside footpaths
Make you so artistic idols!
You art,
The price of your art,
I cannot, cannot, gypsy girl,
The price, price of your art!
A pink statue of Ganesha
With the elephant trunk,
The lotus flower, conch shell,
The axe and the raised hand blessing it all!
My Hands
The lines of my fate,
I do not know,
What do they tell about,
What it in my unseen fate?
Stringing,Stringing the guitarAnd singing the song of life,The love lyrics of love and modernity,Catching the vibes of American life and culture,Pop, rock and blues, country, folk and chapel?O Bob,Bob DylanThe guitarist?
Live lonely?
And you will come to markMy sadness and fine mood writ over,Which you will humBut I shall not be.
Taking daru, you will say,Happy new year to me,We two drunkards celebratingThe new year’s eve,Waiting and watching its coming,Drinking and dancing and fallingOn the ways.Our dramatic rehearsal.N.B.Local Daru-Native Indian country liquor
And the bus driver switched offAnd again started it when the lion slowly crossed overFom this side of the rosd to that.An Asiatic lion, brownish and greyWith the mane and the bulging eyes,It was crossing clowly.
Have you got the hue,The red hue,The blood-red hue,Is it from Mother Tara,The blood dribbledFrom the mythical tongueOf KaliHanging out ofThe mouthIn shame or anger?
