The rocky pillion by the ghat
Saw the same old priest at bay
Who caressed every bou’s forehead
In his musings, telling all portents
To keep away, from the family
Who had poisoned her,
With Camphor
Bellowing through the abounding ghats
Came all the lusty suitors,
The poulterers, head contractors, pimps,
The dandy eunuchs that doted on her womanhood,
The bou’s, but now from the fear of this
Camphor clad corpse, had mellowed
(Like many) into brothers and relatives distant
The riverine masquerade grew larger
And more speckled with impostors, while
Betwixt all this like a thatch doll house
The temple stood clutching its foundation
And the relic statuettes of Kali,
(That were always hopelessly inanimate)
Stood smiling shamelessly
But in the shroud of the incantation
And the piety of incense gaining stead,
The damsel preparing to be ebbed away
In a voluptuous flame was repeatedly raped
Leaving all tufts, breasts, bones, teeth,
A mass of stenchy sand, from which one could
Draw an estimated silhouette,
That this is the Camphor bou
Bondaged previously by Camphor and blaze,
Yet surviving as an ephemeral mass of
Clustered earth, the bou’s remnants
Still pungent with Camphor, now
Prepare for the final assault,
For down below beside, and sadly,
A pellucid lesbian river flows
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i've gone thru twice with camphor, very enigmatic! ! ! said well with imagery more.... the way each stanza narrated is stunning. keep writing......hail nikhail! ! ! !