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