Having removed my shoes,
how different!
as I enter the temple.

                                                     By the bank of the river,
                                                     pointing to God,
                                                     - the washer-man.

The young prostitutes
laughing
as they bought new shoes.

                                                      Smo­king,  
                                                      with an old man,
                                                      I cannot pretend to be otherwise.

Just one fresh salad
would lead
to twenty-one days sickness.

                                                      ­ Night-time has fallen,
                                                       hundreds of thousands of bodies,
                                                       lying draped in the streets.

Tied to a coconut tree,
drying in the sun,
the tail of a manta ray.

                                                       Believing he was Kali,
                                                       he chopped off a head,
                                                       yet his smile was so gentle.

Twilight on the hotel verandah,
witnessing huge black fruit-bats,
cascading from the trees.

                                                       That cloudy afternoon,
                                                      ­ a boy & I chased a rat,
                                                       our shorts & sandals dancing.

From the fog by the bridge,
softly the transvestite would call,
each winter's moon.

                                                       As I wander the temple
                                                       swallows dart to & fro,
                                                       - the cool stone!