The Cock
V. MOHAN PRASAD
God knows what time it is
The cock crows cork-screwing its neck
It crows hour after hour
Each of these crows seems
To come from the nerve-knot of its voice-box
Dropping into dripping time –
Waking up the sky
And shaking up the earth, from its sleep
Since, by then, the pleasure’s over anyway.
That’s why the crows rise up earlier than others
The dew from the morning flower drops slowly
You don’t see the cocks in the morning
To sweep away the dew and the flowers.
–Translated by P.
Rama Rao from Telugu