LAXMI NARAYAN MAHAPATRA
She has come
she comes treading the
green
lushgrown grass
tinkling the silver chain
anklets jingling
in musical strain.
She has come,
She smiles.
Her sapphire bright
spells light.
She grins
a frothy smile drawn
tight
between her ember lips
Her glow of skin
Sprinkles holy light
on pilgrims peregrine.
She casts a glance
eyes prance
her sight searched within
pries beneath my skin.
Her looks freeze
hard on me.
Does she cipher my thoughts
as she sees.
A telescopic eye
watches the panorama
land, water and sky.
She hears
listens to her own music
a witness
audience to her own speech
echoing in silence.
The
bird teak to wings.
Somewhere in the temple
the bell rights.
The leaves drop from
tender bough;
the sun sinks low,
the queen moon smiles
and the wind sings
among reeds and rushes
the yellow veil
is blown by frantic gale.
–Translated from Oriya by the poet