Varsha

1.

Here she comes, dancing over the grateful plains,
Urns of nectar, unsteadily balanced on her sprightly shoulders!

Knead this clay, mother!
Caress, comfort, your fallen sons.
Mould, from this lifeless soil, pots of plenty and gods of war.

Ready to strike!
Hail, Howl, Hurl your lances
At these parched veins below, throbbing with desire.

Lap, greedy earth!
Sip, Slurp, Swig your thirst away
Drink till you drown yourself in an explosion of greenish bile

2.

Summer’s lusty breath, the lecherous fingers*
Of the sun upon her outraged breast.
Her glorious white robe, shredded and strewn
In silvery strands around her sullied feet

But now she rises, hot with shame. Puffy
Cheeks, purple with rage. Heart pounding
With the beat of vengeance and eyes blinking wild,
She draws the curtains over her oppressor!

3.

The poor wizened, wrinkled plain

Looks up and thinks aloud. Supine,

On his cracked bed, an impotent witness,

To heavenly caprices and celestial tussles.

“Welcome back, victorious one,

You must be drained from battling the sun.

But whilst you wipe the sweat off your brow

Your humble vassal begs to know:

Is it joy or scorn you pour?

Do you fling those buckets from your door,

To sprinkle hope on my withered hide?

Or to wash this worthless clod away?

You flow unbound, need no one’s leave
To fill my wells or flood my streams
But what if I had the discretion
To choose reason over artless emotion?”

4.

“So what if those tears trickle from a mugger’s maw,
That earthy whiff, the crab’s grasping claw?
I’m old. I’ve borne many a season’s whim.
Even the gentle touch of spring
Was but a flirting cloak for summer’s sting

What if she weeps in grief? Or drips with desire?
Or storms in fury over her violated honor?
Descend, fine incisors, gentle poison
Into my burning throat! I’ll take my chance again!
Fly away parasol, my shelter is the rain!”

* The reference is to the Himalayan River System