She eloped with my heart,
I am told to wait until dark.

To make a long, curious, story short,
the damsel in distress a while forgot,
her troubles, rescued him from the rot,
and in the process found her way out.

She cooks her dishes with such panache and zest,
as if both are  two new  dishes for me to taste,
her dainty waist, arrested my eyes,
then the mind ******, thunder thighs,
all I want is to stick to her all over like curry paste.

Amanda, a crazy collector of Vanda
had such an intense dislike for Aranda
she detested the ******,
when making out in tandem
her outdoor escapade once scared a Panda



(C) K.Balachandran
balaprimus@gmail.com

Quickly he picked up
keenly examined
and seemed to admire
the handy penknife
with sharp blades,
quite functional,
she hurriedly pulled out
from the clutch she carries;
she was searching
frenetically for something
when it inadvertently
showed up, she deliberately
didn't pay attention
to his expressed curiosity,
yet her eyes adequately
answered his loud
unasked question.

In words he didn't ask WHY?
though it echoed in his eyes.

To her he was love personified, sweet lover
but if you think there ends his troubles of amour
you need to read this narrative to the end.
He would make her bathe in cranberry juice
and feed her the juiciest of peaches and plums
from morning till night, if strawberries and
luscious mangoes become too much for her.
She made him read poetry aloud till their
hearts break in sweet pain,Sappho's poems made
his eyes moist, but she cries aloud, often inconsolable.

At one point fed up being his lap dog
she attacked him tooth and nail, still her love intact,
showering kisses all over his naked chest down.
He laughed taking credit to be the cause
of her true enlightenment,letting her to be herself.

Night was spreading her venom in their veins
and it started to show it's effects as animal instincts
the tigress in her woke up, stretching to full length,
stared at his flesh, hairy broad chest, athletic legs, and groin
then after the play thoroughly exhausted and drained
she rolled to the other end of the bed, the monster
named angst keeping awake in the darkest corner
taking in all  with fluorescent eyes, sprung up on him
bit, scratched, mauled and wounded, as much as it wanted,
he was dazed, didn't scream, fought bitter tears like always.

A scuba diver, head first like a dolphin,
goes in to the ocean, 100 feet down
in semi-darkness finds this apparition
something beautiful to behold in motion,
really really big and mysterious it appears
gliding gracefully spewing wonderment,
inviting reverence from all kinds of marine life

Clearly apologetic, for being out of place,
though he has encroached, in to a world
though not far from the sea surface,
yet in a depth where human has no place
all his scientific temper got  evaporated
a simple villager now, gripped by wonder.

All he could think of anyone
fitting in to such magnificence
was God Almighty,himself.
"How do you do God?" he stutters,
aware that in plankton filled darkness
the mighty man is at the mercy of
the behemoth, looming large above.

The phenomenon in question,
"***** whale"as we know him,
smiles and burps happily "Fantastic"
then he dives 6000 feet down, looking
for a colossal squid, succulent to be sure
the whole reason for him to play God
at this depth for sea creatures that lose
bearing in the haze of challenging depths.

For a million light years, a bloom in space,
a star collapsed,died and scattered,
a petal fell in to inter galactic swirl,
it floated or continued to fall, who can tell?
Light years, like waves after waves caressed it,

eternity took it in to it's cradle and swung,
and it's now the earth,that rides
the waves of gravity, magnetic pulls and the rest,
I am it's part, wandering permanence,
without the remembrance of it's past avatars,
the essence of what is nothingness,
changing forms,I reappear, go back
trapped in a bubble,which after the mission
goes back to the eternal as consciousness.

                                        so, why grieve,
get agitated, or feel elated at times?
Keep the equilibrium and exude love, star-like,
this is what the cosmic hum signifies,
in tunes familiar or seems altogether new.

Each day dawns as an unrehearsed
new act of a scene in the play of love,
that continues with you,
terribly shaking my heart,
though the plot thickens day by day,
when our silent love takes new turns,
who knows which way it goes---

Never did we speak one to one,
how could one, when it's an anathema
for a boy and a girl to hold hands in the open!
with you sitting there in your balcony,
a full bloom, nah, now a tempting ripe fruit,
as soon as you are back home after
the day's engagement, at school and piano class,
all eyes for me to come to your eyeshot.

I start to play exclusively for your balcony
from my front courtyard or backyard
as mom's movement and situation demands.
I do it in ways ingenious, I invent at the moment,
to capture your heart, I know what it wants
still in jitters, not knowing you approve or not,
signalling in that sign language you developed
to dupe our horde of relatives, already suspicious.

Every sunset see you and me silhouetted,
in eager expectation of seeing or showing
a boy's life here is only longing and yearning
don't know what results from this lesson of pain,
a punishing schedule,driven by hormone rush

Cactus,I could guess the secret
you'd rather love to see buried deep,
isn't  the thorny rose ,you dream
in your lonely sad nights?
Torrential rains lash long hours, you wait,
sun breaks his barrage of light on you,
it doesn't matter, foggy evenings tip toes to
ogle the dark beauty night wears,
oh! her starry necklace, that won't
brook any kind of description,
rose you have sent your fragrance
looking for the scent of your love, cactus.

Apart from thorns there is nothing
that bring you both together.
With the yearning each for the other
slowly waning, you  remain apart.
as a binding factor, are just thorns enough?

Presence of water,
I sense it, when
you are around and I find,
your eyes search mine.
What a relief, I sigh
thank God for this woman.
Then I remember,
with regret,
you do not belong
to me, but yes
your heart is ,
the rains, I reckon,
is overdue this year,
you are my rain
in a blue gown,
that's the reason
I thirst for you
and pant, even when
I think about you
and the sultry wind
starts to blow and sway me.

Each word is a potent seed,
sow it with such loving care,
these seeds, in fertile fields
lie in wait patiently to sprout
and to  ensure a golden harvest

Revving up the engine
of the gleaming funky machine
before zooming around, gave her
such an Adrenalin high, nonperil.
The constant ****** no guy ever could
promise, this act gives her.
She is pleased for that moment,
gets ready for the ****** rigmarole,
the very next second.

She gets jealous of her
own story, ever heard of that?
On the race course and the spread bed
alike her ebullience creates
tsunami waves,broke long standing records.

When you run fast enough
there comes a moment,when
there is no record left to break!
and the beds, you guessed right,
all are broken, made redundant.

And then the inevitable happens,
she smells leaking gas, panics,
freezes on the track, shuddering,
switches off quickly the engine
of her dream machine,her heartbeat,
makes the final escape,spontaneously,
without delay, decides to renounce
worldly pleasures altogether,
up to the Himalayas goes by foot, seeking
that thing which in life she missed all along,
Finds silver light's play on ice caps, and realize this:
she was walking through a dark, dark  tunnel ,
of self-deception,"Affluenza" was indeed her affliction.

The Himalayan snow cap, loomed large as an attraction,
in her dreams once, now seemed less formidable, at arm's length,
"What a Guru,who looked timelessly ancient,
jokingly predicted  once, comes true here"she muses.
Her trek upwards resumes with a vengeance.

A filthy rich Russian kid named Anna,
an oligarch's scion, searching for manna,
she struts around in a skimpy dress,
doting dad's private jet, is her address,
On earth, vrooming sports cars gives her Nirvana

A girl sitting at the table next
restless, was slyly eyeing his pie,
kind of cute, like in childhood
it sure was, yet seemed a ploy
to gatecrash in to his privacy,
and give company, as it pleased her.
"The pie is blackberry if you fancy it ,
I''ll be glad, you can have it all,
I know there is no other left"
He played Mr.Nice guy,solicitous,
but behind that face of his,
was the arrows of light, hitting him,
from those  sparkling eyes,
vying with each other, to build up
a halo chamber,  almost visible  around him!

Blackberry pie is no big deal, of course
he knows a whole hillside with
bushes full of ripe, succulent ones,
any day he could have his fill, raw
or as a flaky crusted pie backed by his mom.

But those sparkling eyes that in a moment
made him build castles in the air
had an electric appeal, he can't ignore.
The offer she said, was irresistible,
not a type she is who snatches,
dainty stuff from someone just bumped in to
"But the way your eyes did glint,
when you looked makes me ask
:haven't we met somewhere before?"

"There is a fickleness in this,love at first sight,
do you need to fall head over heels?"
a little voice within, that has a problem
in such things, kept raising a doubt.
"But without a first sight,there can't be love
may it be fickle, we'll tackle it the way it goes"
replies another,who seems to care for love.

Round and round,
a flash in fluid motion,
in the desolate ice rink
she skates and dances
embracing freedom,
my sense of time
shrinks and expands
at her  own sweet will
the fiery flight of an angel,
it's spirit  hits her lover's heart
but only tickles and explodes
in a rain of bright love signs.
I've been watching this
breath taking phenomenon,
without batting an eyelid,
how long, I lost all estimates,
my  sins go up in smoke
when  my heart,is up in flight,
benediction is the result
of watching her write poetry thus.

A corpse buried six feet deep under the earth,speaks
peacefully to the night that extends to galaxies
that cyclically take birth and embrace death.
A night owl sits like a rock cut figure, it's ears
opened to the heart beats of sleeping silence,
finds out the secret that lie beyond life and death,
immaterial to the beings that mastered the art
of hitching a ride on the wings of  transcendence.

A trek to the golden peak,
of clarity of every kind,
she had taken up earnestly
as her singular mission all along.
Near  the  upper reaches,
at the difficult terrain,
without any admonition,
an avalanche.
Her ego, frozen and hardened,
rushed towards her,
blocked further progress,
for ever,
like a wall of resistance.
She tried her best
to venture forward,
but she had lost the path
completely by then
and didn't know which way to turn.

So frail she is, aged too,
but what I see every time
is a frozen leaf resisting
falling snow and whistling gale.

The grace she exudes grips
every time she passes me
in the morning or evening
her smile electrifies me without fail

In my bones it echoes, I felt
each smile brings instant delight,
I feel like it spreads in to my being
unlike the hollow smiles thrown at you.

What remains after one is gone
is to be felt much later by others
but to make the hollow deeply felt
in absence, their gifts in mind should persist.

what makes that huge difference,
now I grasp, her heart that has seen
many seasons, of human predicaments
and beaten in resonance.instantaneously
strikes a chord, with all, it's music to ears.

And it's a moment none would easily forget
she reflects the timeless grace humans acquire
through a life lived fully in mindfulness
I am embraced by grace, when her smile is gifted.

What remains when she has gone
is a serene sense of fulfillment, for having met
a luminous being, who without even a word
or touch, could make others feel nice and be better.

Predatory hate  patted her face
and said"You are a nice morsel for
any beast of pray,prowling in hunger,
in this campus, see them roam around,
in many enticing guises, to touch
the likes of you with a dangerous longing "
she heard the murmur in the wind
and sent it back as her  messenger,
"The moment you touched me, fiend
the pollen of love that did spread on your fingers
started to change you from inside,
you won't be able to hate any more,
take it as a gift, magic of love and  it's collective
though  a curse to debilitate, power of hate"

Her lubricious bikini has full of criss- crossing fancy strings,
the central idea indeed, seems to be not concealing any skin.
when you pull at any one,
the whole becomes undone,
can you blame if the focus of the action shifts to other things?

Against the thick black curtain on horizon
of  still, gigantic cumulus cloud formation
three flitting army helicopters deftly display
a shadow play on jolly life of dragonflies,
I am compelled to think, as I drive past this
along the road skirting  Bangalore garrison

He blindly pretends it is bliss
living in his favorite dream,
and try to believe there are no
consequences as dream has no limits.
But who knocks on the door in this hour?
reality seems to be in her limits of patience.

It feels great!
we thank each other
for remaining friends
for yet another trying day.
                                     as morning light peeps
                                     through the window
                                     we keep our faith
                                     in each other firm.
when
the evening light
fades on to
long stormy darkness,
                                       each take out
                                       poems written by
                                       the other and reads aloud,
when a poem brakes loose
from it's shackles and touch
somewhere; an unknown
depth, where pearls are found
or a lost treasure is to be retrieved,
                                                      ­  Epiphany strikes,
                                                        ­we are melded together
                                                        ­with one vision of beauty
we are sadness
kissed by the lovely
light of hope,at the
right moment that
was about to slip down
from a precipice.

She is clad
in white,
even the stain
on her satin
underwear
is pallid.
As tear drops
well up
in both eyes,
she pleads,
"For God's sake
always wear white,
Do not  provoke
the bull in heat
by showing red
in front of the
huffing beast"

Spare a thought
for her, discern
her reasoning
well, see her plight
with open eyes.

Men in black
with violent streak
imbued from
stone age powwows
are on the march
through high streets,
colonizing homes.
Media, self obsessed
and power drunk,
periodically shriek
make mandatory
noises to please itself,
but to no avail,
in a globalized world,
strangely  getting
polarized in micro level
men and women, remain
just pawns pulled in to
the simmering cauldron
of boiling  turmoil.

But see this;
a woman in white,
holding up a white flag
she signals surrender
in abject fear,
can't attack her, right?

Once a professed good kid
Suskind in his native
German he was named,
wrote a macabre tale
on making a special"Perfume"
most irresistible ,enigmatic,
by murdering virgins
in a chilling succession,
and mixing those scents
absorbed in each shroud!
Parents, beware when
you name your children
see, what this good kid
(according to his surname)
to his excited readers did;
pure  Gothic dished out
from beginning to it's explosive end!

Head over heals he fell in love with a kite,
who would have her pleasures only at flight,
she took him over a hill,
and pleasured him to his fill,
overwhelmed, they took a vow to be life time mates.

Make me immortal

              with the very touch,

you woke me up once

       from  a slumber of millenniums.

In that din of dining,
a constant presence
in the unserved table
was moving silence.
Everyone talked about
gnawing pain in hushed voice
with such compulsion,
when he found his pain
following each foot step
without even letting him know,

In to my eyes she longingly gazes,
for a long moment, disarmingly smiles,
as if I am her first teen age lover
broken in to her room,unawares
and did naughty things,like snatching kisses.
her dad would definitely scold her mother
for permitting such nonsense
without his prior approval,
now that all got wrong, she is perplexed,
what would the people think of her
if they find out all about this?
Her lips I kiss ever so tenderly
to prove that I am still a green horn
in matters of amour, callow and clumsy to boot,
I join in her pretension that we just had
our first vanilla ice cream together,
when we bumped in to each other by chance.

Now the scene changes, she signals
like in one of those school dramas she shone well,
in my ears she whispers, now the coy Indian bride,
who never take liberties without
prior parental approval,
"I just wanted to cheat myself,
for this once, isn't it the last chance
forget for the time being that
we just had an arranged marriage"

The rose wept
bitter tears
                        when the thorn
pricked hard
the eager fingers
that plucked her
from the bush,
She imagined it was
her lover's.
                  Most upset
                  she kissed
                           oozing
                                    drops
                ­                        of blood
                                                  dry,
and wept,
not realizing
the thorn's anger
was directed
to the  irresponsible
aggressor, who has
only selfish motives.
The thorn meant to protect her,
while trying in vein to hold back his
tears that, for others looked like
                                                   dew
                                                      drops
    ­                                                    gleaming
    ­                                                             in pain.


Once snatched from the lap of the bush
she  hardly would last a day or two,
then  would be left to rot
                                         turn to dust
                                                 and vanish
                                                     in a rowdy wind.

Day and night are  just opposites,
yet complementary ad infinitum,
sans any trace of discord, perfectly fit;
everything one comes across in life
is uniquely meaningful, let's not forget.

Ah! such a happy mess is this,
the credit goes to us all
but no one, contributed to it ,
so generously couldn't
recollect the precise recipe,
or what ingredients went in to it,
have no hope of a mess exactly like this,
or taking steps to avoid it altogether!
A happy mess is an aberration of course!
Behind every mess are muddled minds
that look for it consciously or not,
an enviable coincidence of
thoughts craving to create disorder.
Out of compulsion of some sort
they seek gratification in it,
but look at their humbleness
all they say is this,"**** happens"

"Your shapely, bootylicious thighs,
carved columns of lubricious butter,
shouldn't be left without gently caressed,
til covered all over with ruddy marks of desire,
just strawberry goosebumps for ignorant  others"

When she snuggles closer to him, from the seat next,
as the train rocks and they rub,when gathering speed,
she sporting a marvelous mini dress engrossing his libido,
he whispers to her, who was all ears, "But my real object
of focus is the truth, that lurks where your thighs meet"

A battle ground with limits not marked
full of strife , happiness but an occasional shower,
even if one tries to embellish it with
all of the fluff one can gather,
life is an enchanted land where we chase a myth,
that changes it's rules without any prior notice,
queer too, it punishes one with rewards, sometimes!

But at this moment I forget all that,
find no reason to harp on that, just forget

such lovely, clear blue eyes
eager to get lost in to mine!
even without batting an eyelid,
for a long while,is nothing but rapture, pure!

A moment, hand crafted by love, a magical spell,
spills over, makes one feel a  superman in real world
so let's strive to create a dream boat, for blithe lovers
a raft of love to voyage across the ocean called life.

I'd collect such moments,immortal,pearl like, we gift to us
make a chain, to adorn you my queen, in your honor.

Blithe golden cloud, that once tugged at my heart strings
enigmatic pubescent,warm master work of raising steam,
you did drift too low, to be real for my sun scorched world
but deliberately pretended cold,when I waved, repeatedly,
I ardently wooed, to the alarm of your admirers, a legion
how I longed for the secrets, you whispered,know you more
aren't you fire within, that burns heart,lightening concealed?
Formed in sensual, undulating softness, hiding, fiery desires?

I waited, for you to touch ground, as you promised,to explore
being naive, you inadvertently tangled with the tree branches!
Obstructive self seekers,who craftily trapped you in thickets
and little by little, in grey strands you vanished in thin air...
A lesson to all straying cloudlets,I had to be sadly a witness.

A white porcelain coffee cup
she gently raises up to her lips
with a satiated look on her face;
this gift, a much awaited moment
attained by satisfying her yen
not for choicest, gourmet food alone.

Those dark droopy eyes, suggest
a luxurious languor, she does cherish,
as long as the after tremors would last.

Slyly she looks at his swollen red lips
with a crafted guilt, it gives her yet
another high, sending ripples over
her *******, his eyes do a recce on this
then go up to her lips,finds his ardor
last hour had  made them crimson all over,
throwing his head backwards he smiles at her.

Pure in it's gleaming marble white
a rare conch shell, well formed,
with 'reverse turning spiral',*
he holds, in both palms with reverence
closer to his naked chest, where
his beating caged heart tries to create
echoes, as if it, in an unknown
mysterious way, represents
a myth entwine him with pure nature.
An intriguing remains, retrieved,
from the accumulated deep sea secrets,
where still his memories vaguely roam
in another life, as a creature of the deeps.
The conch he is aware, hides tender notes
that bridles air, water and fire, cosmic ripples
prods him subtly to accelerate  his quest,
a swim towards the maelstrom of inner core,
commingling with the music cosmos conducts
every moment, with it's billion piece orchestra grand.

She is a flame burning in clarified butter,
his consort,her eyes reflect a concurrent spirit,
both her palms she bring together ,makes a lotus thus
and a red blooming lotus is nestled between palms.
Her lotus speaks of  fecundity,from which flows love and life
generations, descend find succor, in the gentle fragrance,
and warmth, the lotus, protects, even at the midst of a freeze.
Her eyes are blissfully half closed immersed in the fragrance
wafting in the air spreading in waves far and wide.

1.
Quite far you are,know not where, time and space remain fused,
But, our love is still a wild flower, that takes new avatars
Fully bloomed, defies sun and rain,other vagaries of seasons,
This love is beyond the thrills of flesh, not even nocturnal togetherness.
To plant a kiss of love on your lips,the wind will be my messenger,
With a gentle caresses  you will be reminded how my lips felt on yours,
In reciprocation, with your scent wind would envelop me on return.
2.
Our love has faced many harsh climes, still we persisted,
Fallen down and walked again limping, long distances,
Our love has martyr's blood  running through veins,still brave, sings
The song we loved, not together, a new light our love had found.
Beyond the point of togetherness,love is indestructible, defying logic.
3.
My flesh and blood would wither away,yours too have the same fate,
Your beating heart and mine,one day will embrace stillness.
Love has to live beyond the tunes of heart beats and our lives.

In wind and water, earth and fire, all over the vastness of space,
Millions would come together,in life, in death, sing love's paeans

She finds every single day
invariably wears, to her horror
a night as a gown all over it
made of deceit and mayhem
of many kinds deftly woven as one.


Makes it an imperative
for her to choose from
nights of two kinds,
quite unsettling, it has become
as the world progresses,
is this truly any step forward?

If she  wants to count sheep
desperately in the hope of managing
forty winks, that too has become
a luxury, she can't easily afford.

She has the other prospects
staring on her face, not a welcome thought;
reject the challenge of  nights altogether
lie gathering dust in a corner for ever.

Or resurrect, herself mustering the
last of hidden power, turn a whirlwind,
rage against the hypocrisy
of the sleep deprived world,
rotting every moment of it's life
yet pretends nothing is there
to worry,remains uncaring about
it's downward spiral, gathering
momentum, turning nights in to days
and forcefully making days wear darkness

Under the murky water of consciousness,

there are one or more, even a shoal of fish.

On the bank,I sit, a  brooding moon on it, reflects,

looks like it swims in the sins of clouds,

My fish-line and hook lay limp on the grass bank,

I've to catch the fish,the line is strong, baits ready,

But I am enamored by the moon's reflected glory

on the water,a lover of the moon, I'd love to catch

as much fish,without breaking the watery moon.

To forgo the love of illusions,keep focused and wait.

deep inside one has to decide,what to seek from life

whether to walk the hard path where  wisdom trees line up,

or heartily be regaled by the pyrotechnics of apparitions.

It's her, the woman of steely resolve,
who fills every lighted part
of my consciousness,so thankful, I am to her
The wife who never lets down
her man who faltered and fell,
love being the ***** in her armor
she is careful not to hurt there,
our eyes exchange texts, only
we could read and an instance

She was the one who found me out
lost from the neighborhood of her heart,
brought me back from the outback
from the jaws of the beasts of prey,
where i was stuck in a thorny thicket,
lost almost for ever bleeding,pale,
if only she didn't decide to conduct
a one woman adventure, a rescue mission
against all odds,with much *****,
and presence of mind, one rarely see
even in alpha males,who habitually
boast aloud,of having ***** to stand up
against any adversity and fight.
For me it was she who did it and all alone!

Young and callow,
a bird of infirm wings still,
alone i flew long distances
circled around,hallucinatory visions,
lost my way, eventually went down,
my love may have failed before,
but she happened ,in the moment of epiphany,
otherwise would I ask her , without a second thought
to be with me all through the journey of my life?
It would not have been,but her heart listened
to my voice wistfully spoke to it, as if becoming weak,
caught in a storm lashed over the thicket and
she came searching at the right time, rescuing me .

Gun fights and volcano eruptions we survive,
even thunder storms, mad dog attacks and cheats,
broken hearts and misfortunes of every kind too.
Never do I forget this dear face of courage,
the woman staying firmly behind me, a sturdy rock,
sticking to her faith on me and a prayer on her lips,
with the staunch belief that I'll come out a winner.

She loved him
with such hate
hidden in her
inner darkness.
unaware of this
complex affair
he hated her
with much love,
darkly disguised.

Between them
love and hate,
lost what once
distinguished both.
Instead of keeping
black and white
separate,like milk
away from poison
the two  were
mixed up,made
in to a paste,
that  was smeared
in every single affair.

Darkness had an
affair,a chapter
shameful, with light,
It overturned what
once marked  everything!

The rare civet cat in my thoughts is wild at heart
precious, as the species is fast facing extinction,
adamant and headstrong, just accept her the way she is
yes lives in my attic, keeping an eye on me, independently
Did you say you smell musk on my body?she must have
smeared it all over, inadvertently, a prankster too, she is
can't think any other chance otherwise, but her ebullient
moments are different,she herself turns a fire work then.
Some strange coincidences in life, don't allow any questions
certain secrets,her heart's wish, are yet to be unraveled
Yes, yes,her musky fragrance on me, spills magic,I enjoy it

A frizzy blue black shadow, there you hold,
curtaining off the door to the pleasure garden,
in my frenzied day dreams, it seems like  everglades
where your chiseled alabaster legs smugly join in.

It would take many shapes in my hazy dreams
when my ***** imagination, for you  is in an overdrive,
at times it's a soft  winged butterfly flitting around your *****
intermittently sitting on your thighs, inching slowly upwards,
how it takes my breath away! in each of it's tickling move.
Excited I ogle,  and just then it assumes the look of a face,
with such inviting succulent lips,  I fully lose my patience
at first the kiss is soft, a fervency takes over,then, I slip in to a trance
erotically charged and ecstatic,  I hear you moan,when I  explode!


കാമ   നിഴല്നാടകം
------------------------------------
കുനുകുനെ കരിനീലയാമൊരു
നിഴല്‍ അവിടെ നിനക്കുണ്ട്‌
സുഖകവാടത്തിനു മൂടുപടമൊന്നിട്ടപോലെ
എന്‍ ഭ്രമ ഭരിതമാം പകല്‍സ്വപ്നങ്ങളി
ലതു നീര്‍ നിലമായിമാറുന്നു.
                                                ­                                  
നിന്‍ വെണ്ണക്കല്‍  കടഞ്ഞ
കാലുകള്‍  ചേരുന്നൊരിടം.
എന്‍ ഭാവന യുടെ കാമ സ്വപ്നങ്ങള്‍
  നിന്നെത്തേടിപ്പായവേ
എന്‍  അവ്യക്തസ്വപ്നങ്ങളില്‍
അതു, രൂപാന്തരങ്ങള്‍തേടുന്നു.
ചിലനേരംനിന്‍അരക്കെട്ട്ചുറ്റി
യൊരുചിത്രശലഭംപറക്കുന്നു            ­                  
ഇടയിടയില്‍ നിന്‍ തുട പറ്റിയിരുന്നു 
 മേലോട്ട്മെല്ലെനീങ്ങുന്നു.
അത് മെല്ലെ ഇക്കിളിയിട്ട്മേല്‍പ്പോട്ടു
നീങ്ങാന്‍ തുടങ്ങവേ
 എന്‍ ശ്വാസം  നിന്നുപോവുന്നു!
ഉന്മാദിയായിഞാനവിടെ നോക്കുന്നു,
അവിടെയൊരുമുഖമല്ലേകാണ്മൂ
മദ ഭരിതമാ ചുണ്ടുകള്‍ കാണുമ്പൊള്‍
ഞാന്‍ എന്നെത്തന്നെ  മറന്നു        
മൃദു ചുംബനം, ലഹരി പകരുന്ന മുത്തം
പിന്നെ,എല്ലാം മറന്നമയക്കം!
രതിലഹരിയില്‍ നിന്‍  വിതുമ്പല്‍ കേള്‍ക്കെ
ഞാനുമൊരുകാമ വിസ്ഫോടനമറിയുന്നു
(In Malayalam Translation)

A tree, stands alone  in the misty, interior forest,
frozen, bark to the core,agitated, in the blizzard and gale
only embrace mother nature now blesses him with,
yet  full of hope and all ears  for something,humming, then-
comes alive suddenly as if a new season of efflorescence
has begun, a cycle of youth,gentle love of butterflies.
A haunting note of wafting music, wakes up the soul
the sky high tree has already forgotten, is rising above the din
booming, sonorous from the deeper part of cosmos.
The tree listens and a transformation begins in every
small root, tiny leaf and allover, the tree left in the
heart of the forest to the mercy of forces is, you know who
the music that enlivens me once again is you my love.

As he sits there alone, west wind blows with a hiss
That moment, brings to mind her searing, passionate kiss
See, how fast the river of life once brimmed dried up,
Yet the seeds of memories planted within the reach
As if in a safe,  atmosphere controlled green house still flower,
Once in awhile, though in faded colors just to please  him.