( There was no way for Gautama to escape Nirvana or
You are the ocean.
A fathom filled with invisibilities
A mad thought in a sleepless night!
On the edge of madness
On the walls of pains
Vague lines conglomerate into heart-hidden pictures.
The thought that the roof
Of disappointment will fall down
Makes you laugh!
The heart filled with stony butter
Is valued better than water or soil or blood.
Knowledge of senses becomes the prison of thoughts
Truly, your depths have whirlpools
And your plains have tranquility
You and I should not have been impractical poets.
Mango grove, dinner table
Alcohol and meat
The pork lay chopped in colorful vases
You or I were not sad about the headless fish
A hammer in the hand, black hard muscles
And cowry laughter
The blacksmith was standing behind
You were drowning in the floods
Hidden on the dinner table
I wanted to tell that you should not be afraid
Of the rebels’ efforts; you too were a rebel!
Behind were standing the blacksmith and the merchant
We should not have been afraid in their murmurs
They might be saying that we should not glance at the lady
Dressed in jeweled attire
And that we should not think of her transparent sleeping
Of course, desires should be suppressed
They want us to do that.
Groves…. and the tavern…..
They own everything
It’s better to be channels not deep.
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