What is Hunger,
Sated by a few numeral returns,
Lo, what of this fiery hunger,
Shooting up from the abysmal depths of me,
a cyclone gathering over the seas.
To atone it,
How many deep dreams I unveiled,
How many islands of fire I installed,
While melting like a star
Gazing into the eyes of the moon,
While resolving the knotty riddles of thought,
Amidst the gentle waves of a cool breeze,
While relaxing from weariness of wants,
Reclining on the glaciers,
Again, and time and again,
It keeps appearing.
How many sunrises, how many new moons,
Lying on iris on the beach.
How many notes of music I cultivated,
How much of radiance I have absorbed,
What blazes I fanned
Affixing my signatures
On the brink of a moment
In between my breaths,
How many bouncing dawns
Breaking over the oceans,
I merged in my deeper depths.
That is the power
Generating heat even on the icy mount,
That is the blazing lava,
Emitted by erupting volcano.
That is the magical epic
Every letter lucent with halo of poetry,
That is the endless cascade,
Secretly gushing into my heart
through the nerves deep within me.
The blood of how many bodies
Should be offered up in sacrifice,
Biographies of how many birth places
Should be penned.
How should I cremate this fire of hunger,
Into how many channels of birth,
On every flower plant in the green,
We don’t hear any inviting voice,
from any body.
No picture seems to flow into us.
In this affectionless realm,
All should keep rolling
Between the boulders,
In spite of bleeding wounds all over the body,
No feeling sinks into us.
We see only rocks all around.