To Dear Aana
The sunset does not bury our sorrows,
Nor does sunrise bring new hopes.
Everything continues relentlessly.
Society, bound by her rituals of ages,
Chews up chunks of human flesh
In blind fury:
The horse she rides
Bleeds and foams at the mouth;
She holds the reins
Of an ancient system;
Her predator’s ears
Listen for the twittering of birds;
In the orthodoxy of her world
Passion and intensity are ridiculed.
Therefore, dear Aana,
You ought not to have cherished expectations
Of a lingering kiss in the long night.
Translated by Vilas Sarang