after giving birth to so many sea-shores
the transparent lip of the wax-bird
remains virgin as it was
so within the eyes of the kapalik yogi
the dances of the hills
gradually become feckless
touching the circle
originated from the woman
are running those horses
under whose hoofs
remain till today
the shoes of the copper-coloured
moonlight
know it
though the vertebra is wetted
with village-rains
it is neither very close to fragility
nor under-aged as well
it also does some relief-work after the cyclone
by a whistling sound made by contracting its lips
putting off the ribbons of the body
it deposits them
under the custody of the balloon
that is ousted from the troop
may be it is shameful
or sheer the madness
of an aluminum-birth
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem