Tragopan Poem by saranyan bee

There is fire in your neck, Tragopan!
fire in the goose-steps
dealt with deliberation
one leg after another, you scare me,

your hard mouth
uttering those guttural noises
left, right, left, right, left, right,
like an army in rampage, you scare me.

I fear you, O Tragopan
I haven’t come for your hen - believe me,
she is behind pecking the Gojji berry,
fear me not, I am not for amour!

my eyes feed on the purple clouds
borne by the silver gray
in the depths of jade,
whose playful slaps are gentle on my feet,

feed on the gold of oranges
from the bathing sun at the west-side
embankment
seeking absolution for the hot noon,

my ripples are circles too,
O Tragopan, they don’t
travel shaped after my claws,
so fear me not.

she waits for you, Tragopan,
your consort, don’t make her wait for long,
the Gojji do not last for ever,
it is known to turn things black

I will keep you safe from tiger,
Tragopan, red tiger with rings in the tail,
they say red tiger drag women
in red and say grace for the supper,

So, let me douse the fire in your neck,
O Tragopan!
Let me douse the fire in the neck
with your blood!


Saranyan BV (c) October 2011