Sunday, August 09, 2020

The River Returns: A Review by Narayanan Raghunathan


The River Returns  

Professor R.K Singh is truly a multifaceted personality. First he is a professor and head of the Department of English and Social Sciences at the Indian School of Mines, Dhanbad. His  main fields of interest consist of Indian English Writing, especially poetry and English for specific purposes, especially for Science and Technology. He has authored over 150 academic articles, 160 book reviews and 30 books including ten collections of poems !! Very versatile and prolific indeed! 

His poems have been anthologized in over 140 publications and translated into many languages  

The first thing that I noticed about the book “The River Returns” was its elegant cover design. It uses very simple but perfect lines to outline a female nude. I instantly felt familiar and soon re-cognized it as Matisse’s famous drawing. I checked inside and read, ‘cover design recreated from “Nude” by Henri Matisse’. I was very fond of Matisse and this became an ambient personal introduction to the book. [ I felt that the Matisse lines have been thickened in the design which was not necessary in my opinion. (or am I imagining !) ]  

This book has two sections Part 1] consisting of  140 Tanka  Part 2] consisting of 365 Haiku . It must be one of the first book(s) ever published on Tanka and Haiku in English in India and the very prolific abundance is admirable. 

We will deal with the Tanka section first and wade through a few Tanka. Tanka was originally love poetry and continues to be so intrinsically : here in these Tanka by R.K Singh,  love manifesting, hope of love deeply enhanced by nature’s myriad wonders of perception etc. are  major themes that find varied structural and aesthetic elucidations ~~ 


“Unrealized bliss”  “rains love and delight”  in the following lyrical Tanka  ~~ 


She hears the voice
of unrealized bliss in
the coos of koel
at the window sill this evening
rains love and delight 


The passion of waiting for the tryst “at moonrise among flowers” “sparkles a secret on her smiling face” here ~~ 


His message to meet
at moonrise among the flowers
sparkles a secret
on her smiling face passion
glows with charming fervour 


Waxing and waning like the moon  in ancient cosmic Rtam ~~ 


She is no moon yet
she drifts like the moon, takes care
of him from the sky-
meets him for a short, waxing
leaves him for a long, waning 


The geometric formation of a woman in river waters inspires the following special tanka: It is more neutral [ not personal ] observation though sensuous in its subtler enhancements. ~~ 


At the river
she folds her arms and legs
resting her head
upon the knees and sits
as an island  


The Cosmic Rtam is referred again and the poet sees the Cosmic Mother Aditi in his beloved’s eyes ~~ 


Life limits between
whence the sun rise and where
it goes to relax:
joys of a fleeting moment
I see Aditi in your eyes 


A little drink, anarchy and epicurean refinements too discover a Dionysian fulfillment in some Tanka like this one ~~  


Drinking evening star
blue green patterns before eyes
no meditation
no god visits to forgive
the sinning soul in solitude  


Of course the physical ailments of the body also  surface for tentative attention in a gently mocking tragic irony as the poet “looking for the inhaler” breathing pipe choked with coloured dust ~~ 


Breathing pipe choked
with coloured dust celebrate
spring in coalfield:
the moon mocks my nightly plight
I look for the inhaler 


Very deeply angst ridden one that finds a way out of the entrapment in the sun’s antidote ~~  


I lost my sleep
over a thought I could not
make my own:
the sun’s antidote changed
the voice of the wind 


There are ‘shasei’ sentient  ‘aware’ invoking Tanka enhanced by ‘wabi/sabi’ like this imagist one immersed in Zen. 


A cloud-eagle
curves  to the haze
in the west
skimming the sail
on soundless sea  


Here is a strange and beautiful one with a hidden lyrical narrative and metaphysical resonance as the toddler / in thin sun awaits / her mom from the sea” ~~ 


Digging sand
with her little toes
the toddler
in thin sun awaits
her mom from the sea  


But anxieties have no escape and insomnia is a perpetual agony for the poet. Unlike many others here the poet talks about his personal pains which seem to be a part of the Cosmic Dukkha ~~ 


I thought I’d exchange
my anxieties for a bit
of peace but thinking
was easier than happening:
I couldn’t even sleep  


Fearsome nightmares and sleepless deeper darkness envelop the night(s)! 


I fear the demons
rising from my body
at midnight crowding
the mind and leading the soul
to deeper darkness 


The insomniac poet is in agony ruthless seeing with no self aggrandizement: survives one more nightmare: it looks fearsome if one tries to imagine what he says! 


An insomniac
weak with desires and prayers
hears the heartbeats
rising fast with dark hours
survives one more nightmare  


But surely there are gentler moments when “seven times he moves round  the vermillion god under the peepal sprinkling water ~~~~ ? 


Seven times he moves
round the vermillion god
under the peepal
sprinkling water to escape
the malefic Saturn 


Of course the poet can’t escape nor deny poetic lyric so here is one of RK’s beautiful and highly evocative Tanka with a cosmic perception ~~ 


Gentle like a dove
love was graceful a night away
on the white wave it’s
a sea searching ways leaps to
eternity tonight  


But meticulously he affirms almost immediately ~~ 


I’m no romantic
turning sufferings to bliss
and delude in
heavenly meeting with god
or life’s grandeur and greatness  


Again insists with a vehemence and even hidden pain about his unavoidable human predicament ~~  


I’m human and feel
their meanness every moment
get angry and lose
my sleep as the earth writhes in
the pain butcher’s knives inflict  


But there is the hope in poetry and prayer despite God’s nonchalant silence ~~  


There’s little save
poetry and prayer
to put up with
rising darkness in and out
and god too is silent  


There is a sad tragic reminiscence like this one: The poet also creates Tanka out of his unhappiness ~~ 


Couldn’t be happy with
my present nor could realize
any dreams all these years-
there’s nothing to look back
to say I lived my life well  


A strange esoteric mystery pervades the spirit of this brilliant Tanka ~~


Inside me
the whispers of the forest
will be quiet:
no tree will know
what the weather was like  


But surely there is “divinity unrealized in soul” is expressed eloquently as below in some Tanka.


The sun
on a mountain
grave illumines the path
to divinity unrealized
in soul  


Also, just brilliant imagist Tanka  very self-satisfactory  without critical comments ~~


With steel flow
the rolling water
pierces the rocks
shapes them into stars
turned into river’s song 


There are humorous one filled with sad wabi-sabi  ~~ 


She visits
a beauty parlour
to erase wrinkles
and returns with the same
wintry darkness  


Deeply meditative Buddha’s image in Padmaasana too finds way into one of the Tanka ~~  


At the river-front
in-drawn with Buddha’s image
in padmasana
eyes half-closed, meditating
his eyes not yet opened  


A somewhat disturbing sentient experience inspires the following Tanka 


Stray fungi grow
on the broken window frames
beside my bed
watery smell swells as if
a corpse in the river  


The Great Kumbh Mela finds a subdued expression ~~

Feeling the difference
between a tin house and
a weather proof tent:
on the Yamuna’s bank
Kumbh deluge to wash sins   


Very expressionistic and philosophically inspired Tanka also have their special place ~~ 


With black and white marks
and nest of ants on its skin
the tree grows taller
shining through the geometry
of sun, moon and halogen 


About layers of “dust thickening on the mirror”, “the stains” that “stay like sin” despite perpetual wiping  ~~ 


Layers of dust thicken
on the mirror water makes
the smut prominent:
I wipe and wipe and yet
the stains stay like sin 


A very deeply symbolic one about life and river and finding way in life ~~ 


I’m no river
flowing towards the sea:
I must find my  way
asking strangers in strange places
sensing soul, using insight 


Remarkably gentle Zen inspired imagist Tanka like a divine dream   ~~


The otter watches
a duck walking on
the frozen river
icicles drop bit by bit
from a lone tree  


Perfect human observations find their hidden poetry in some like this ~~ 


Peeling the orange
with manicured fingers:
she slits the rind from
top to bottom, separates
each section with artistry  


The eternal journey and eternal duel and the resolutions surely are part of the Tanka experience ~~ 


One thousand miles
traveling together
in tense silence
he and she contemplate
the next round of duel  


There are also difficult to decipher ones rooted in aware ( eternal transience )  ~~ 


Time is running out
cracks in walls develop fast
but I stay static
shrouded in cobweb, brooding
as if in dusk, denying death 


The physical pains and the occasional union in sleep of the insomniac with God is referred below ~~  


Each night speaks to me
in flatulence, wheezing
and pain in the legs:
god intervenes at times
in momentary union  


But with “years of rubbish he reeks of aborted dreams" as he rots in the "marsh" "like a frog" "cut off from the running source”  ~~


With years of rubbish
he reeks of aborted dreams
lives a stagnant pool
cut off from the running source
rots in the marsh like a frog  


The insomnia seems to be a perpetual unwanted companion and theme for Tanka inevitably again and again ! 


Lying all day
with pain in the heels
and sinking heart
I read tanka and wait
for miracle to sleep  


Now there are of course Tanka that express social concern and personal political indignation  ~~


With moral twists
name of god or religion
they fly planes to bomb
sheep of his pasture and
expect grace for humankind  


Where they preach peace with politics of terror  ~~


Preaching peace
explode ‘plane bomb, car bomb
human bomb
and bluff the living corpses
with politics of terror 


and the poet wonders how god condones the vague prophets and their cults  ~~


They claim to kill satan
mass murder innocents
and blow themselves up:
I wonder how god condones
vague prophets and their cult  


Here is a deeply personal one about the poet’s son working in the Armed Forces near the border where war may break out any moment where he must kill and live to kill ~~ 


From the border rings
he’s stationed dangerously:
any moment war
may break out for their follies
he must kill and live …. to kill 


A very strange memory of walking through a slum when “dogs bark to alert the dwellers to the presence of a stranger” finds a perfect expression in this Tanka. 


Naked children crowd
as I pass through the alleys
between smelly slums:
dogs bark to alert them to
the presence of a stranger 


But sensual ambience reigns in many of  Prof. Singh’s Tanka like this gentle lotus fragranced one ~~ 


Her letter smells
the lotus she wore each time
meeting in the dark:
I touch her fingers again
with all the hopes and passions 


Hilarious and romantic moods merge in this Tanka invoking the monsoon 


Waving arms of trees
conspire with overcast day
to drench again
the two of us look for shade
under leaking umbrella 


The Tanka section closes with the dead silence at sea when the poet surreally pulls down chunks of sky 


Awaiting the wave
that’ll wash away empty hours
and endless longing
in this dead silence at sea
I pull down chunks of sky  


The Haiku section begins gently with a few mutually related(linked) Haiku on hibiscus and there are spiders and webs The special meta-animism  is self-evident in the  following ~~


Haiku Oleander and
hibiscus blaze with passion
making love in sun 


Hibiscus seems to enthrall him and he finds it anew ~~


on the spider’s web
a hibiscus 


and escapes the snares of a spider web here ~~


Narrowly escape
the midair web of spider
perched on hibiscus


But hibiscus is sacred when used for worship, so wash your hands before you touch them as the following haiku reveals ~~

Without washing hands
he touches hibiscus for worship:
her frowning glance    


“Chrysanthemum” flowers in divine abandon and is even growing in odd places like a "mossy roof " ~~ 


on the mossy roof
deeply rooted 


He surely captures a huge spider between two roses ~~ 


Too big for its web
between two roses-
a yellow spider 


A lone pomegranate manifests from dense fog here  ~~


Shrouded in fog
the lone pomegranate
in the courtyard. 


An ordinary observation gets elevated to a haiku here ~~


Lying in the dust
a guava bitten off
by the parrots 


Leaves of trees become meta-beings wanting to fly in this Haiku ~~ 


Leaves sway
to fly like birds
free in sky 


The hill is veiling her breasts and blushing like a maiden in this poetic Haiku ~~


Veiling her breasts
with the season’s first snows
the hill blushes 


Transparent, explicitly shasei but still subtle Haiku  too find a voice here ~~ 


On a lean
branch of neem swinging
a bulbul 


A clean haiku painting is coaxed in a few syllables like this ~~


spring with willow
as brush 


His wife appears in some Haiku in domestic freedom unaware of her physical appearance ~~  


With her saree
hitched up between the legs
my wife in bed  


The newly wed wife rises early to please  and make all happy ~~  


Rising early
to make tea for everyone
the newly wed wife 


Pain of separation from beloved children finds its expression on the Diwali day ~~  


No joy in lighting
the candles this Diwali
both the children away  


The son working in the army on the dangerous border invokes this eerie death inspired haiku ~~  


Awaits his son’s
phone call from the border
dogs and cats wail 


The moon is a favourite topic and kigo for the Haijin. The following haiku closes admirably with a hineri [twist]. 


A star shines bright
beside the crescent moon
she fakes a smile 


Deep wabi-sabi is invoked in some, the ancient strange eternally solitary man  reinstated in his unique cosmos.  


After the party
empty chairs in the lawn –
new moon and I 


The Haijin’s incurable insomnia appears too: yet there is a moon !  


Noisy birds
don’t let me sleep:
midnight moon 


There are some sensuous haiku with direct reference to the female anatomy .


Wet bodies of
bathing women:
full moon night 


Very strange and impossible metaphors too appear sometimes ~~


under the blue moon-
the dry sky 


Religious and ritualistic elements find a new expression in some Haiku. 


Vultures waiting
for the leftovers
of the sacrifice 


Also, Mosquitoes, solitude and waiting ~~


Waiting for the train
alone on the platform
swatting mosquitoes 


Sleepless nights again and again repeating  ~~


The long night passes
sleeplessly I deep-breathe –
mosquitoes in bed 


The terrible after effects of an earthquake is captured eloquently in the following ~~  


Days after the quake
staring at the rubble –
a homeless widow 

The well acts as a mirror for the village woman coming to draw waters ~~


In the well
studying her image
a woman 


Very pathetic scene of poverty as seen in some places in India also becomes a theme ~~


Searching food
in the street garbage
a dog and a girl 


The poet can also be rebellious and ironic smoking cannabis on Gandhi Jayanthi day at Sabarmathi itself !


Smoking cannabis
at the Sabarmathi –
2nd October  


The whole vast ancient Indian idea of transmigration from life to life for ever is invoked in silent grandeur ~~  


Facing the sun
the lone flower
dying to bloom 


Explicitly humorous Haiku too find a place in the Haijin’s repertoire ~~ 


on the National Highway  


A very simple curious observation becomes a beautiful haiku here with vast worlds unfolding in its hidden recesses ~~  


A bubble flying
rom over the shaving brush
bursts on the mirror 


There are common experiences that turn into “aware” invoking haiku like this ~~ 


Disposable blades
one over the other –
dusty switch board  


Also, strange, experimental but animistically suggestive ones too appear occassionally ~~ 


A star in making –
but an island appears
the palm amuses 


The Haijin despite much sexual activity recognizes that ~~


The bed room altar
no substitute for temple
sacrifice of sex   


But He clearly recognizes that these passions are all fleeting and unruffled by it all the Buddha’s calm still is a possibility.   


by passions and clamours -
Buddha’s calm   


There are animal related ones like this neat shasei experience ~~ 


A crow pecking
at the ripe papaya and
another waiting  


This beautiful senryu is something many people would have seen many times!  


In the morning train 
sleeping on his feet
the newspaperman  


The Endless Ganges is his perpetual theme  ~~


Awaits the sunrise
in the chilly Ganges
a nude worshipper  


He also encounters visions eating the food of gods  ~~


Sees visions
eating food of gods -


Religious symbols too appear in some of the Haiku  ~~


On Christmas eve
santa claus takes leave- 
mist on chairs in pairs  


The contrast of flowers and the cross is beautifully indicated in this haiku  ~~


between flowers
Jesus on the cross  


Krishna too appears in this mythogrammatical-haiku  ~~


Krishna offering
parijata to Radha:
Narada looks on  


But still the pains of this earth cannot be overlooked  ~~


All night rain
the gaping roof
her shelter  


That does not forbid the beautiful vision of a rainy day  ~~


Sudden rain
on the way home -
a peacock  


Then we come to the Haiku with the title of the book which is symbolic of human existence in a deep way  ~~


a few muddled crocs :
the river returns  


The book closes with a rainbow kigo Haiku  and a new hope  ~~  


In the changing hues
of rainbow in the east
sun and lightning 

eternally bridging the many worlds  ~~


Reflects the rainbow
in the mirror of water -
Yamuna bridge   


There are certain things we may specially observe in Prof. R.K Singh’s Haiku & Tanka poetry. They are not bound by hard and fast rules. Firstly, the syllable count rule is not adhered to. Haiku and senryu are not classified. The haiku themselves are of various types we may say, extending Susumu Takiguchi’s tentative classification: Neo-classical [ with a kigo and kireji ] ,Shintai[ New style ], Gendai [ poetic, ornamented ]  and even experimental ~ The haijin has not artificially kigo-ized nor kireji-zed his Haiku thus avoiding the temptation to tentori-fication.   


My only negative observation is that some of the explicitly erotic Haiku  weaken the texture of the book and create a little distracting feeling     


I also notice that one Haiku has appeared twice in the collection. [ end of page 52 and page 75 ] . This should have been observed and corrected!  


Due to inexplicable reasons this review of this book took too long for me to complete. This made me more intimate with the book and the author in an intrinsic sense.  If I had made another review of the same book, other Haiku may be included as examples, offering another perspective and verbal meandering perhaps invoking another symbolic journey  .



Review of Prof. RK Singh's Book 

Wednesday, August 05, 2020

SILENCE: AWHITE DISTRUST translated into Spanish by Joseph Berolo

Silencio : A white distrust
An experimental poem in linked form
--Ram Krishna Singh
June 2020


 Silence: White distrust  

ever evading
happiness for the now-
unfinished song
this november night
livelier with stars
and breathing silence
perfumed with night queen
still lingers
her scent on the linens
drying in shadows
half painting
palette and easel
collect dust 
in the studio
painted silence of mothers
lemon tea-
shade of her lipstick
on my lip
last night's rain
paves way for a clear sky
this morning
the breeze is cool and the sun
adds a new hue to the spring
filling emptiness
waves dance over each other-
the sky meets the sealife
is beautiful
when you enter another
and become one
in each other
 smelling the cleavage 
crescent wanes
her name
a soothing music
in the mouth:
I forget the pain in back
I seek the sky in silence
zipping her back-
hundreds of nights grow wings
with wasp touch
the darkness of bedroom
a tree's silhouette:
she whispers its masked presence
and says no to making love
brightness of the star
half-closed bedroom window:
moon shies away
waking to a morning
tainted with prayers
on the toilet seat
nude nature waves a dull sun
smitten by the night's long eclipse
moon energy
fills up the inner space-
call to wake up

the busyness 
and weariness of now
they toss about
regulating their sleep
by one another's
stain-dried lingerie
reminds of the night's act-
flowers of lips
hang it on the forehead:
spine migrates
things get hairy, scary
with body failure
ailments pop up
spirit dries up
mind disconnects
to take the first step through-
stands at the door
with how I look and
feel right now
seek a best version
and just look within
silk silence
the sky measures 
new cup of joy
in the white of night
sighs for supreme delight
steal tender pleasure
manipulating wetness
in bed unmask simple sin
greet the sun
on the terrace-
two roses
November morning--
too many thorns to reach
the only rose
and the tormenting thought
that I am forsaken
stunted bud
in the earthen pot-
winter sun
choking air
in a walled colony:
two tired pigeons
perch on overhead tank
whisper pity on us
a robin whispers
our talk in bed last night-

another bird
light switched off
love sliding on
window pane
moon too shies away
behind the bare tree
stolen truck
in parking lot:
they have a quickie
in the icy wind
my fingers
she fears the chill
on her cheeks
on a late-running train
squirrels frisk near track 
if I die today
it won't matter to any-
I have no worth
they all care for themselves
search nearest in curved space

 repeats daily
in the mind my own story-
a feature film
a couple of drinks
and soft music to forget
the year's hard days
now welcome the new morning
bid good bye to factious party
darkness of the heart
bouts of quiet clashes:
midnight oracle
visit Vinayak
each day new prayers inside
years old faces
at the threshold hit their heads
the dumb deity stays unmoved
visiting home-
shadows of forgotten days
on the wall
spiders' network
between two photo frames
bridge or bury
sensations no longer
spurt action in silence
on the terrace
facing the sun
an empty chair
black pigeons
sitting in a row
cracked for seeds to die

before they fly back
cease growing
new lines on the palms:
broken bangles*
(*indicates widowhood in India)
I'm not alone
waking up in the grave-
angels await
my rise to eternity
my love's union again
noise of crackers
monotony of light

4 a.m.
a noisy start to
Chhat puja:
blaring songs from neighbourhood
sweet smell of frying from kitchen 
incense sticks
perfume the air around-
offering on altar
end of May-
scorching heat follows
rain and hail
before iftaar this Friday
prayer promises bliss
Easter Sunday-
blood stains stick on the cross
more bomb blastswearied winter
each night bed a living grave:
drying breathing passage
and lonely shadows

delaying disaster
dirt conscious
everyday struggle:
rising up
too small to explore
the sea of the unknown:
island existence
breathing hell of darkness
dreading hungry excursions
cleaning the remains
of burnt out earthen lamps-
dusky temple yard
source of salvation
depository of sins
no cake cutting
in church promise of reaping 
if we sow recovery seed 
aching legs-
nightly tension crowns
moon sickness
an island
between the head and fate lines
bridges blackhole
in life's labyrinth shadows
move always ahead of me
after the discourse 
beer and biryani in lunch-
Happy Drinksgiving
earthy body
and nightness of silence
fear in mirror
return to the river
echoing hollowed sound 
long waiting
short consultation- 
morning smog-
an asthmatic with grandson
coughing restlessly
on the terrace even
 a limping crow seeks fresh air 
she stoops down
writes her name on the sand
waves return   
dark alleys
chaos on the road
fear delays
homeward move at nine
lumpens lie in wait 
in the street corner
breeding maggots and vermin: 
abandoned father 
the wounds exit
the pain of truth lingers
under my sky
savage head battles for
vacuity, a victim   
Good Friday
clouds and wind without rain: 
boasts of giving 
full blue moon-
divine channel from heavens
arrival of Easter Sunday
and April, the angel month   

microbes of her complaints
poor hubby 
before retiring
swallow pills to mitigate
her hackles
that walk me through to death
of desire for love in bed 
 pre-monsoon ramble
wilderness in harmony-
worlds within world   
hail stones
lashing mango florets
my car too:
I fear thunder squall and rain
leaking roof and wetting bed
wild sugar cane
no animals savour
ageing monsoon 
fishes swim
weeds disheveled
silent lake
I inhale
the city's garbage
sudden downpour-- 
even in sleep I worry
about the virus 
secret faces
unmask in sleep I see
signals through holes
that hide the heat of birth 
through printed rag in clods
a long golden net
surges on the ocean tide-
fishing memories   
running on footpaths
all roads blocked
for pedestrians no way
in Bangalore living hell 
near her eyes
signs of crow's feet:
slaps of cold water 
in the air
I expected romance-
avoid her kiss
and breathing too 
with spring comes
burial of romance:
I clear my throat
behind the face mask
breathe in unknown viruses
suffer new repressions 
now lockdown
cut off life:
reading the astral transit
ceaseless lockdown
over-sanitized hands
playing ‘Stairway to Heaven' 
her painting
a Phryne on the wall-
fear of touch    
a sensualist
searching the spiritual
shakes so many hands
blathers academic worth
offers pearls for the pigs 
house arrest:
full moon of April
a shadow stirs  
their exploring gaze
veiled women
with colours patterns
and seismic movement   
on the bed
physical distancing-
end of sex?   
voiceless friends
in aloneness of the room
unread books
human's unseen plenum
my sympathetic nerves

pre-morning mushrooms
bloom on the pubes:
dreamy arousal
greenness of the tree
blessed seed
every passing day
my limbs fade and fail
a drop of blood
her no to sex for months:
soul's yearning
resounding roar in the sky
leo moon:
heal, fire passion
my dying cells vibrate
a hammer pounding
my still body in the dark tube:
with foreign sound
I couldn't be a lasting poem-
provisional body
nude smell and white distrust
play freedom in mounds of cloud

dreamy waves
gentle energy-
new moon
astral sky
new cycle of quest
changed mindset
a better version of self
sublimation of love-life

Silencio: Inocente desconfianza
Un poema experimental en formato vinculado
Ram Krishna Singh
Junio 2020
Traducción & Interpretación de Joseph Berolo 
Silencio: Inocente desconfianza
evadiendo siempre
la felicidad del ahora
canto inconcluso
noche sin  luna 
esta de  noviembre
vibrante de estrellas 
y silencio jadeante
perfumado de la noche reina
aún persiste
su  perfume en las sábanas
secándose en las sombras
a medio pintar
paleta y atril
recojen polvo
en el estudio
silencio maternal pintado

te limón-
tinte de su pintalabios
en mi labio

la lluvia de anoche
aclaró el camino del dia
esta madrugada 
la brisa es fria y el sol agrega
un  nuevo tinte  a la primavera

llenando  el vacío  
olas danzan una sobre otra-
el cielo se une con el mar

 es hermoso
cuando uno penetra 
otro cuerpo ... mente
y se convierte en uno
cada uno
olfateando  el menguado
perfume del  escote

 su nombre
musica suavizante
en los labios:
he olvidado el dolor de espalda
busco  espacio  en silencio

  acaricio su espalda
cientos de noches creciendo alas
con   toque de avispa
las sombras  en la alcoba
la silueta de un árbol:
ella susurra  su  enmascarada
y dice no a  hacer el amor 
el destello de la estrella
la ventana de la alcoba a medio cerrar:
la timida luna se escapa
despierto a la madrugada
contaminada con oraciones 
la naturaleza desnuda
en  una tasa de baño 
saluda a un sol aburrido 
consentido por el eclipse de la noche larga
 energia lunar
llena el espacio interior-
 llama a despertar 

  el ajetreo
y cansancio de ahora
ellos dan vueltas
venciendo el sueño 
 la lenceria manchada seca
recuerda el sexo nocturno
labios en flor

 huellas en el ceño
migración espinal

 asunto serio da miedo
que falle el cuerpo
 surjan males
se seque el espiritu
se desconecte la mente
dar el primer paso-
detenerse en la puerta
de  cómo me veo 
siento ahora mismo
bscando una mejor versión
 y solo  mirando hacia dentro 
un silencio de seda 
mide el espacio,
nueva copa de placer

 en el seno de  la noche 
gemidos de gusto supremo
roban ternura al placer 
manipulan la humedad 
desenmascara  en el lecho 
el pecado simple

 dos rosas
en la  terraza-
 saludan al sol

 madrugada de noviembre
demasiadas espinas por brotar
la única rosa
 y el tormentoso pensamiento
de que he sido traicionado-
brote atrofiado
en la matera-
sol de invierno

 aire axfixiante 
en la colonia amurallada:
dos palomas cansadas
trepadas en un tanque saliente
gorjean su piedad por nosotros 
un jilguero canta
nuestras cuitas  de anoche en el lecho

 otro pájaro
 la luz apagada
se deslizó  el amor
por la ventana
la luna también se escondió
tras de un árbol desnudo
un camión robado
de un parqueadero:
alguien también
tiene un rapido encuentro
en el helado viento
ella teme el helaje en sus mejillas 
un tren tardío
las ardillas se escurren en la trocha 

  si hoy me muero-
a nadie  le importará
no tengo haber alguno
que a otros interesa lo suyo 
no el hallazgo
de lo que ya está perdido
 en un espacio agotado
diario repetir
en la mente mi propia
película de estreno
un par de copas
y música suave para olvidar
los duros dias del año 
dan la bienvenidac a la mañana nueva
adiós le dicen a los partidos divididos

 sombras del corazón
brotes de choques calmados
oráculo de media noche
visita diaria  a Vinayak 
 oraciones nuevas
 caras viejas  en el umbral
golpean sus cabezas
los tontos dioses inconmovibles
se dejan visitar-
sombras de olvidados dias 
en los muros 
red de telarañas
entre  dos retratos
 puente o sepultura 
sensaciones ya no son 
esfuerzo supremo en el silencio

en la azotea
frente al sol 
una silla vacía

 palomas negras 
en hilera en un parapeto agrietado 
abonan el pasto  con sus  deshechos 
antes de volar en fila
 sobre las palmas-

 No estoy solo
entre en la tumba 
ángeles esperan
mi despertar a la eternidad
mi resurrección (1)
estallido de petardos
monotonía de luz
Diwali (2)

4 a.m.
amanecer ruidoso a
Chhat puja:(3)
estruendosos cantos  de vecinos 
suave  aroma  de fritura
en la cocina 
varitas de incienso 
perfuman el aire 
ofrenda en  el altar

 final de mayo -
sigue abrazador calor
lluvia y granizo
antes de iftaar  (4)  este viernes
orar promete alivio
Domingo de Pascua- 
manchas de sangre en  la cruz (5)   
mas bombaas em el temible invierno
cada noche el lecho
una tumba viviente:_
paso de un seco respirar
  y sombras solitarias

 deteniendo el desastre
sucio consciente    
lucha diaria  en auge

poca  cosa para explorar
el mar de lo desconocido:
existencia de isla
 respirando sombras infernales
atrevidas  excursiones de hambre

limpieza de restos
de lamparas apagadas
en el oscuro patio del templo

 fuente de salvación 
depositorio de pecados
 no hay corte de  pastel 
solo promesa  de cosecha
si sembramos semillas de recuperación

 extremidades adoloridas
domina la tensión nocturn
malestar lunar 

 una isla en la cabeza
y las lineas  del destino
puente negro en el  negro
laberinto de la vida
siempre adelante de mi 

después del discurso
cerveza y biryanI (6) al almuerzo
feliz  libar de copas
cuerpo terrenal 
 y nocturnos de silencio  
miedo en el espejo
regreso al rio
hacuendo eco en el vacío 
 larga espera,
consulta corta 
 bruma de madrugada-
un asmático con nieto
tosiendo incesante
 en la terraza un cuervo
cojeando busca aire fresco

  ella se agacha
escribe su nombre en la arena 
regresan las olas

 pasadizos oscuros
caos en la via
temor de demoras
camino a casa  a las nueve 
los marginados esperan

en las esquinas
alimentando gusanos y alimañas : 
  padre abandonado 
las heridas brotan
el dolor persiste
bajo mi cielo
el cerebro busca comprender,  una víctima 
Viernes Santo
nubes y viento sin lluvia:
alardea  dar 
una luna llena -
canal divino del cielo
la llegada del Domingo de Pascua
  y abril, el mes angelical

  microbios de sus  reclamos, 
pobre entretenimiento
antes de retirarse
tragando pastillas para  calmar deses 
que me llevan a morir
de ganas de hacer el amor 
  pre divagacion de monsoon - 
el desierto en armonía
mundos dentro del mundo
piedras de granizo  
fustigantes floretes de mango
temo truenos, ráfagas y lluvia,
goteras y cama mojada 

 caña de azucar salvaje 
que ningun animal saborea
monson envejecido

 peces nadando
malas yerbas despeinadas 
silenciosa laguna
inhalo la basura citadina

     chubasco repentino- 
aún dormido me preocupo 
por el virus 
 rostros escondidos
desenmascarado dormifo
  veo señalespor entre los huecos
que esconden el sueño del poeta (7)
a través  de  los tapabocas
 una larga red dorada
surge en la marea-
pescando memorias

 sillas de rueda
rodando por los pasadizos
los caminos todos cerrados 
nada de peatones 
infierno vivo en Bangalore
 cerca de sus ojos
señales de patas de gallo:
latigazos de agua fria
en el aire 

 Yo esperaba el  romance-
apura evitar su beso
y respirar también

  cuando llegue la primavera 
funeral del romace:
limpio mi garganta
respiro detrás de  la máscara 
desconocidos viruses
sufro nuevas represiones,

 ahora encierro
corte de vida:
leyendo el transito astral 
 incesante encierro
sobrelavadas manos
jugando  "Escalera al Cielo" 

 Su pintura
  a Phryne(8) en la pared-
da miedo tocar

búsqueda sensual
de lo espiritual
estrechar muchas manos
 tonterias sin valor académico
ofrenda de perlas a los cerdos 

 arresto domiciliario :
luna llena de abril
una sombra despierta
 el ridiculo 

mujeres veladas
de  mirar exploratorio 
con figuras coloreadas
y movimiento sísmico

 en el lecho
distanciadas -
fin del sexo?

 amigos sin voz
en la soledad de un cuarto
  libros sin leer
plenaria humana nunca vista
mis atrofiados nervios

 preamanecer de hongos
florecer en el  pubis:
sueñop de ereccion 

 auto renovación
verdor en el árbol,
semilla bendita cada dia

mis  extremidades desmayan  y fallan
una gota de sangre
ella meses de no al sexo :
Lysistrata (9)
 ansiedad del alma
resonante  rugir en el aire
una de Leo:(10)
curación,mis celulas  vibrantes
pasión agonizante

 golpeteo de un martillo
sonre  mi cuerpo quieto
eu un tubo negro:
  sonido extraño
no puedo ser un último poema-
cuerpo provisional
olor desnudo inocente confianza
jugando a ser libre
en cumulos de nieve

  olas soñadoras
energia gentil-
luna nueva

 cielo astral
nueva ronda de preguntas
orden mental cambiado
mejor  versión  de mi  mismo,
sublimación de amor-vida  
--Ram Krishna Singh