Itch Poem by Kanishka SricharanPratap

If nothing...
What is to us?
How fine
Is our buttocks!

So much of itches here...
As if nectar!

For this itching
Made grouping,
It is it's... that is that's
Scraping and scraping
By grass scraper...
We scrape
Lines... Paragraphs... pages,
Sometimes
Whole book of other's!

Beating drums
Lifting clothes
Forking thigh,
We say to lot of blind idiots:
See...
You see
Our lotus marked vagina,
Smell of lotus!


Translated from Odia by
Subash Chandra Mohapatra