Tale of a Cat

There is tremendous rain, water
Harvesting dead earth, limbs so long slept.

He was late in school.
He has to sit with Sasa, the woolly swollen girl.

He hates the cat, grumbling with gruesome noise,
Licking her paws for another win.

He did not listen to the class
He does not hear splattering water upon the hot roof.

One by one all songs dropped
One by one naked stars lie on the sky.

Beautiful, blind, deaf and dumb
The lonely boy hears the gushing waves
Climbing the stairs, up to waist.
Up to neck till he could not breathe the sky.


In my October hour of Sunday noon
I saw the mirrored faces
Faces green with vegetables
Yellow in broken sunlight
All faces white and black and blue
You heaped on Eiffel tower of ages
Above my heads that I put on with so much ease
(How smart! I often think)
As those faces walk on my heads.

Life is ecstatic! Life dangerous, lives just leaped
From ifel tower on my heads looking to the gone rivers of twilight
Of memories,
Are you panicked?
Have you heard the thump?
In a Sunday noon of October the broken faces began their march
Salutes the empty mirror
Have you seen the limping legs walking on the broken alleys?
Of my heads? Of my memories?


Evening stumbles here, rolled down from the speechless mountain
Standing dead Hercules before us, far before there the water stood
He had friends once; now too close to speak words,
Too dumb to hear touches
Waiting on the vast beach of raging sea,
I hear the rings of sorrows, joys, humanity and death
Slide back to the retreating waves and back to oblivion
Where god keeps smiling on sounds of evening. Sounds of our tomorrows.

Move your eyes away, away from me and keep smiling to the torn heaven
Lost tomorrows, before we shall reach our hotel at night
Before the room is locked at the face of world,
Before your sad face smiling to the tune of dreams of quixotic castle
White bronze hands of a lovelier prince,
Pretty woman, you have gulped down witching gall, holding it at your throat
Do you know me when I feel nervous like a rotten insect?
Deep-delved in gall,
In the humiliating terror of madness?

‘Come’, she said.
‘Come under the trees, my prince,
And feel the darkness of white’.
Her white face rolled up laughing covering me
Covering me till the small man also could laugh.


Stones withered, blue clouds on mountain standing one foot,
Long coils of bony grass arising out of hot mud
Rude earth has drawn its long skirt
From mountain faces, from idle water
From valleys to cliffs a snoring orange wind arose
It has nowhere to go, nowhere to sing as if is late
I know here everything happens without default
With ease as perhaps life had been.