'I am nothing but a mere raft of soil' -Murari Sinha
Water emptied
From one clear glass
To another:
Water into wine.
Then in reverse,
One drunk cup.
A mast set
Adrift and ablaze
In the night.
Horatio and the ship escape.
An empty clay jar
With the glow
Of a flame.
Visibly drunk people,
Shouting
With their heads
On fire:
'The Light is found',
Or at least the oil.
A glass jar
Crawling with
Glowing things.
Letting them free,
And they, knowing it,
Fly out...
Spirits in bottles:
Detergent and a black light.
Genies...
A cup, fish-baskets, warm oils,
Magic birds feeding Prophets,
And inkwells that never run out.
Loving always some muse
More than yourself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem