The trouble arose out of needless self-knowledge
The organism recoiled even on gentle pin-pricks
Here goggle-eyed girls touched tender spots
A phallic water-tank towered, Shiva-like,
Over the stony portals of glorified knowledge
A shrill sea-gull-cry vaporized as rain-cloud
Another morning bird fanned the garden air
My glass eye lost the bee in floral confusion
There was this gently smiling anaconda in the hall
There were no beauty-tokens, only tattered egos.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
so very typical of training academies...liked the expression-floral confusion!