Grandpa

The hill the dale the river

The banks the greens the groves

Mango trees coconut palms;

Here in the grove under the shades

Grandpa sleeps, sleeps, eternal sleep:

"When the plantains will spread leaves

When smile will bloom in palm leaves

You will see your grandpa there

Who will be with you always, dear!"

Silence awhile:

"Present in water I am a taste,

So in the earth I am as smell".

Puzzling charm of his smile’s sheen

Tobacco stain on teeth seen.

As tree, flower and fragrance,

As sun, shade and cool fountain,

As frolicking wind is present

Grandpa unseen in the grove.

Whose corpse is now fastened

To the bamboo reed stretcher?

Is the pyre fed with sandal?

But what spread is rotten smell:

To fill with earth the burnt down pyre,

Sow grains, plant one plantain;

Sheer waste;

None will grow nor bear fruits.

This corpse only will be charred

Like pieces of wet firewood.

The smoke will itch and blister skin

Cloud the sky and rain acid.

Will corrode the layers of ozone!

Grandpa had rained nectar,

Grandpa had spread shades.

But myself, the corpse?