I CAN’T REMEDY
Life lost in petty worries
is the core worry: I’m diseased
in soul before the devil
reappears I must commit
the act or suffer the bull
for castrating in the dried canal
where some fishy cousins waylay
cowmen with their upthrust bosoms
and make noise too in the half dark
seizing and unseizing slowly
all dreams get buried in sand and grass
now I don’t bother the sweetness
of papaya growing taller
between the fence and the drain
or the urchins stealing the fruit
there’s no fun in romance with the moon
or flowers at night smells and sounds
of the weather smack of allergies
that cripple the andropausal day
and ice all the gelled machismo
too many are the grudges
and I can’t remedy my mind
or body with mystical bids:
it’s loaded with emptiness
-R.K.SINGH
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem