The harvest of manslaughter is ceaselessly obtained here.
Seasons change only in accordance with the wind’s direction.
From east to west, north to south
Harvesting never ends, round the year,
Their slimy insistence on confining words into lines
With literal exactitude,
Their fondling of rainbow corpses of words
Smeared with the rouge of dying sunsets-
Let them fool around and flirt,
Declaim insane eccentricities,
Beat their breasts, conspire intrigues of unrest
We will turn the tables on them!
Translated by Charudatta Bhagwat