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Vinda Karandikar
Stanya-Sukta
Breast-shaped is the sky. Breast-shaped, the hill.
Breast-shaped, the vision of loosening clouds.
Breast-shaped, the fruit. Breast-shaped, the eyeballs.
Breast-shaped, the buds about to open.
Breast-shaped is the dome of St. Paul's.
Breast-shaped, the echo reverberating.
Breast-shaped, the secrets. Breast-shaped, the caves.
Breast-shaped, the anchorite darkness within.
Breast-shaped are all our hearts.
Breast-shaped, its anxieties. Breast-shaped, the funeral pyre.
Breast-shaped, its flame. Breast-shaped is the world.
Shaped like breast-milk is Brahma.
Translated by the poet
On Making Love
Green pastures, green and free,
With herds of cows, gray and white;
Make love in a place like this alone,
Forgetting all that haste and fright,
Make love that arises out of blood;
Make love that's pure, like animal
drives;
Reach the major beat of blood
With all the force of a hundred
lives.
Make love that's dumb, without a name;
Be grass before you love and kiss;
Make love like this; but ... there's a 'but',
Make love before you know all this.
Translated by the poet ( with A. K. Ramanujan )
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