Salvation Poem by Sasanka Sekhar Panda

Now the only question
in everyone's tongue is
'After how many Autumns
the branches die
and wait for a storm
and for a few wood-cutters? '

I know it well that
people around me
can see their hopes
crumbling into pieces
and no grass wonder
for the pain, the servitude
and the burning of their flesh,
and no god consoles
the cracked bones
and the torn muscles.

They must themselves forget
the orgiastic hours of the past
and they must
bury their naked desires.

Then only they can attain salvation.