Scribblings
My account of the visit to the Museum of Modern Art (January 6th, 2023) is here: Vincent and the Starry Night
Afternoon Sun
Blow them o wind
Take them to my love
Caress their smooth skin
On a mellow afternoon
Whisper in their ears
They have a soul
In summer and in cold
To enscone in;
And here shall I,
Like a bowerbird,
Build a home...
Tranquillité
I couldn’t tell if I was walking on clouds or the sea
But I knew then, why poets wish to be buried in the mountains;
Farewell traveller. Centuries hence, I would await the bluejay’s song
And the call of the wild deer,
While the river brings me his dried chrysanthemums.
Till then, I bid you adieu.
Tulips
Behold the happy faces
Radiant smiles and rosy gazes,
Verdant fronds, velvet touch,
Tulips, I love so much…
Storytelling (Translation)
(Original by Sukumar Ray)
“Once a king”, “No Brother,
He was the king's footer”
“His Uncle, maternal”, “Maternal?
Everyone knows he's paternal”
“He owned a baby goat”
“Can goats in air, float?”
“On his terrace one day”
“Terrace? On a house of hay?”
“A gardener from the Orissa state”
“No! It’s Meher Ali instead”
“Was singing the Behaag tune”
“Hardly Behaag, it was a different tune”
“Oh God! stop interrupting!”
“Ok, go on with your storytelling”
“No sooner had he left the bed,
His uncle rushed in with a hot head,
And held him by his hair”
“Hair? His head is bare”
“Why do you care you fool?
Aimless stupid owl!
I will hold you, clown,
And thrash you up and down
Interjecting my story everywhere
Where will you flee now, dear?”