Whether flowers bloom or not
it’s spring today
On the paved footpath
with feet dipped in stone
a rather wooden tree
laughs out loud
chest bursting with fresh green leaves
Whether flowers bloom or not
it’s spring today.
The days of masking the sun
and then unmasking it
of laying people down in the lap of death
of picking them up again
those days that have passed this way
let them not return
That lad of many voices
who for a coin or two
would chirp like a koel down the street
in the ceremonial yellow of twilight
— those days have taken him away
With the sky like a red and yellow wedding invitation
on her head
clasping the railing to her breast
a dark and ugly unwed girl down this alley
played with such idle thoughts
Right then
there fluttered in, shamelessly, right onto her body,
oh damnation! A stupid, awful, foolish butterfly!*
Then the sound of a door slamming shut.
Hiding his face in the dark
that sinewy tree
was still laughing.
