BLACK SOUL
Ashok Niyogi
We will go hand in hand into the evergreens
Me and my soul, black as coal.
To hide in shadows that tall trees
Throw on apiaries.
Stinging bees make honey for me,
For me and my soul.
A riot of colors on the beetle’s back;
This peculiar knack
That you have of talking in rigmaroles
Will not save our souls.
The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away:
What happens when he does not give?
I went to Kinnar (1) to ask the Shiv.
My hoarse cry echoed across the peaks
And the snow doves carried in their beaks
Echoes of ringing shrieks.
In the togetherness of flight
Perhaps they found themselves tight.
Now why is it that dreams of glory
Impinge upon my story
About yesterdays in the life of an ordinary man?
The mangoes I brought back are overripe
And old men, like small babies, are victims of gripe.
(1) Kinnar - A hill district in the Himalaya in India
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