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Now the new chum loaded his three-nought-three,
It's a small-bore gun, but his hopes were big.
"I am fed to the teeth with old ewe," said he,
"And I might be able to shoot a pig."
And he trusted more to his nose than ear
To give him warning when pigs were near.
Out of his lair in the lignum dark.
Where the wild duck nests and the bilbie digs,
With a whoof and a snort and a kind of bark
There rose the father of all the pigs:
And a tiger would have walked wide of him
As he stropped his tusks on a leaning limb.
Then the new chum's three-nought-three gave tongue
Like a popgun fired in an opera bouffe:
But a pig that was old when the world was young
Is near as possible bullet-proof.
(The more you shoot him the less he dies,
Unless you catch him between the eyes.)
So the new chum saw it was up to him
To become extinct if he stopped to shoot;
So he made a leap for a gidgee limb
While the tusker narrowly missed his boot.
Then he found a fork, where he swayed in air
As he gripped the boughs like a native bear.
The pig sat silent and gaunt and grim
To wait and wait till his foe should fall:
Your body is my prison, Krishna,
I cannot see beyond it.
Your darkness blinds me,
Your love words shut out the wise world's din.
[From Only The Soul Knows How To Sing]
Dear, I salute
I find in livelihood.
Life and livelihoods
All there, I salute.
I salute you all,
I love you all.
Here I am to receive
The chill wind beats
Against my face hard
I feel like falling down
From the bike;
By this error-free magnetic force
For the outstretching of a mind's
More stable, what shifts for marriner.
High-fenced, with thick, dark cloud;
Cold, gate-locked, for hail;
Summer's place. Once whose paths
Lighthearted were swept.
To keep it, dear, maintained
Your mind's room
Up its gloom
Have they decreased in pleasure
These walks now, when by none
Led on, but of one?
'Certainly not! As close felt!
All my poems and my songs
This moon will recite to you
When I will be gone...
चलते रहे हम बचा कर दामन को इन कांटो से
फूल मिला और ख़ुश्बू के सिवा कुछ न मिला
अँधियों से बच कर दीपक को जलाये रखा हमने
their hands together,
one, against the other
It was my love
embargo. After separation from you,
the passion went up. There was no other pain.
I see a tome, it beckons me
It leers, it mocks, it sighs
A scaffold of scoffed certitude-
From it I can never hide.