Posted by: bogpan | януари 19, 2018

The Imam Runs only to the Mosque

Will you break off with me,
my beloved,
morsel for morsel laddu*?

My dream doesn’t come to me,
my bed is divided,
my heart – dry,
fire is rankling me.
You’ll regret,
my beloved,
if you taste it –
outside it’s sweet
inside – bitter.
Twice more,
my beloved,
your tear will run fast
if you pass me by scornfully.
In my chest
I wear a diamond of snake,
a lion-hair on my wrist,
a wealth of Brahman
in my head.
Will someone take them, gifted
someone else but my death?

Ah, my beloved,
marry me.

*a round syrup sweet made of gram floor

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Responses

  1. Wow! What a poem! The imagery is out of this world! Divided bed; heat and dry; sweet and bitter. snake and lion; „mud and blossom“; death and love; heaven (Brahman) earth (marriage). Honestly, this is one of the best poems I have ever read. Thank you for sharing!

  2. oh what words! the best. oh, I am humble before your magnificent words.
    eternal reincarnation. forever welcome!

  3. You have nothing to be humbled about. The poem is magnificent!

  4. ah, a magnificent reader! everything is a matter of taste. the words are so powerless. I am very grateful for your time.


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