Summer rain

In summer,

The sun smiles a golden smile

of manly charm wrought with heavenly glory

His hair drifting in matted clouds.

From afar he stretches his hands, a thousand and more

calling to his dusky love.

In summer,

Earth stretches herself languidly,

her curves punctuated by soft sighs of the breeze.

A thousand fingers and more of the rain

caress her 

awakening the the serpents of desire 

coiled in her fragrance.

Lust spreads her wings of ego

and dances like a proud peacock.

Rivulets of sweat flood her heart

and burst their banks.

In summer,

the rains flood the heart of earth

filling her with the seed of sun

making her the mother of the infinite.

In summer,

lust pines for love.

Love lusts for desire.

torrid heat seeks thunderous rains

thunderous rains seek sultry days

And when they meet in the henna stained evenings

Life is born.

Hope (Less)

We are all children of death; begot in silence; born in darkness. 

Death is our mother; silence our womb; darkness our home. 

We gestate an eternity in the cool comforting love of or mother. 

Then when forever ends, we are born and with us is born our shadow.

Time. 

Forever has he been smothered in the silent womb by our slumber. Now, he breaks free with our awakening, our birth. He runs besides us with feet of day and night. Every breath of ours he steals jealously, this ill favoured twin of ours.

Unmindful of this, we, the nascent child, enticed by light, by life we crawl forth. We breathe, dream, dare and do. Life catches us in his capricious embrace, spins us in the air and folds us in his arms. We, the morning dew of an age's dawn melt in the gaze of his sun. He makes us his bride and we swoon in his kiss. With passionate fire we lust after him. Our soul yields and spreads to receive his numerous seeds of desire. We multiply in deeds, good, bad, small, large...

All this he watches, our twin Time. He eggs us on with anxiety, with fear, from one spell of life to another. For life throws no favour at him, nor does death bother him. Alone he dwells, this Time and in his loneliness, he broods and devours our days in envy.

Then in an hour, the thrall passes, the charm pales, all the gold turns to dust. And in that hour, cometh the hour of Time! 

Life, who drinks forever from the fountain of youth mocks at us, who's youth is forever drunk by time. Our weakness wearies life, our wrinkles annoy him. His heart flits about and he finds a new soul to dole out his passion.

We lie in sorrow alone, while finally Time mocks at our loneliness. But not alone. For in sorrow there is but darkness and silence. Home beckons and we gratefully crawl into our cold comforting graves. Death our mother is always there, patient and infinite in her love.

Hope is not the thought that one day we can build castles to the sky. Hope is the thought that even our castles will find peace in the dust... One day.

Truth

Even the Buddha
After realization
Must eat and excrete.

Pretty woman

The most beautiful woman in the world
Is a winter morning
Masquerading as a summer day. 

Enslaved

Oh ye that we call as love,
To your name
Which is but
A reflection
Of your shadow
I'm a slave.

Destiny

And when I was young,
I gathered the ripest blossoms of my orange spring
love, a pristine jasmine
lust, a flaming laburnum
knowledge, a blooming lotus
and fed their fragrance to my raging fire.

Now I age some more
And dried leaves of broken philosophies
crackle in the blaze of my quill.

Be as that may,
to burn is destined
to be burnt too is destined.

தமிழில் - http://kaalaikkathir.blogspot.in/2013/01/blog-post_8097.html

Infidel

In the garden of the hermit
who worships the one true God of his faith,
lives a honeybee
that fleetingly drinks the nectar
of many a flower.