Function And Consequence Poem by Reza Raza

When the first rain of Baisakh brought the smell of fire-
I cross the Satmukhi lake to smell it;
The so-called pundits giggle staring at each other.

The whole body inundated by flood -
Rubbing the Super Moon spreads the rays of light;
By moth-jumping it registers its name in the martyr's list.
The so-called pundits smile through gritted teeth.

If the old love gets nostalgic-
Forgetting her huff-
The ex-lover becomes ready to kiss me
Returning to her sprouted youth of twenty.

As a gift when I give her my poetry manuscript of-
One thousand three hundred and forty two years old
The so-called pundits tying my hands and feet in joy
Throw me into the stream of the Mahananda.