The fairies of chaitra
lie on the un–wrinkled bed
with their backside up  

in the hearsay of the air
once the woods of tamarisks
once the hill of paraffin

it appears there is no interruption
to this circus

the toy-telephones
hang from the cloud to cloud

from that carnival
take birth many kanthali-champa

the surgeon comes calmly
to the secret of darning

all localities are totally maddened
by the flow tide of the  exudation

observing all those happenings
the half-broken wave
does awake on the sofa-set