Song of Vagabond....

On the spacious physical question 

you encounter a vaporous drop..

The drop desires....
to embrace with a guffaw,
to kiss tenderly,
to turn to a tolerant roar,
to tread weaving through her like a silkworm,
to make baby feet dance,
to sometimes drown and kill,
to announce guerrilla warfare through bizarre emotions..

Universe, the wisdom, is monsoon...
torrential rain, is the sob of the soil impending labor pain..
A time bound opera that germinate seeds and uproot huge trees..

As a seed sown in a word,
an instrument can blaze the performer as a lightning...

But this is not that leaves the dark clouds brooding...
Why your body alone stay dry and sapless,
in the middle of all consuming storm and overcast..

Though the doors are groomed with colours,
the latent lamp is truth.
Even in the sweeping raucous whirlwind,
umbrella is an ornament to a dunce..

The festoon in you,

is a diseased organ..

You are a still birth,
if the apparels do not separate,
though amputated..

You are the thong's tongue,
that streamed wailings... 

to the wind, that knitted sand into path...
to the sunlight, that burned dreams to cause light..
to the forest days, by heart felt springs,
harvested darkness, keeping farther from night..
to the wisdom of sea, the itinerant..

A vagabond, oblivion of borders,
continued the song…

"Be naked as the earth's mantle…
Wander as far as the milky way…
Umbrella is ego,
Attire is selfishness,
Footwear is arrogance.."

Translated by Deepa Chndran Ram