Cloudy Day
 

And the day
Resting his heavy head
Laden with a mass of iron
In the restless mind of uneasy hollow wood
Shrouds himself with a dirty quilt
Right from top to toe
And retires quietly somewhere
To some freezing basement of my heart
Or to the darkened garret of my head
Just to lie low all by himself !

When the weather is overcast
Even the day catches cold!

The Dark

Under the crimson sky of life
With a light mixture of black ink
After sunset
Like stripped green corn
There stands a lonesome life,
A bare palm tree
In the arid landscape of sand
Stretching far out to the horizons ;
A dark shadow of a compelled day,
After descending from tall hedges
Gradually spreads over to the bushes and moors
And slowly carries still farther
Along the tracks and trails
And villages and rural homes
To that yonder ….
To that yonder !

The Moon

Having had her 'sindoor' wiped
In the prime of youth
As the sun sinks beyond the horizon
Mellowing in the evening,

Running soft fingers
Over the blisters and blemishes of her body
Licked by the flames of youth
Growing in the dark
And branded by the stars -
Countless voluptuous eyes of the world,
Looking jaundiced
Worried and run down is the moon
Stripped in the mid-spring of her life
The tired moon
With hair like white cotton,
Spreads out a squeezed cloth -
Her own life,
A white sari washed with tears
Across the earth -
The preservation of moonlight far and wide.