For a Nude at Konark
Of a young mason
when he defies death
with his chisel and virgin ideas.
The hewn breasts of the nude
of the Sun Temple sweats
with the sunburst and salty air.
what of disconsolate the shivering sands
to the ruins of lotuses.
No need of taking the notes
of the tourist guide. The pride of
reminds of unseen sufferings.
Where is the crown?
The waves on the Bay of Bengal
does not reflect the nude
in her revealing glory,
and the music of the rain.
Could it be
the beating of her Cymbals?
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Comments about this poem (For a Nude at Konark by Manu Dash )
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