Empty sky above the head;
Wilderness below and where am I?
I am just like a horn-bill in penance,
Longing for a drop of rain water,
To quench a persistent thirst.
Can you give me a drop to drink?
All my senses are fuming in despair,
In the centre, of a sacrificial fire.
(Fire on four sides, and sun above.)
Could anyone be kind enough to
Pour a thimbleful of holy water,
Into my scorching soul and satiate
My thirst, for a moment to revive me?
Death is waiting at the doorstep, with a hearse
To carry me away into the utter darkness.
And when the grills on the cage of my spirit
Shatters, by the flaps of my soul fluttering
On its sides, and break them away,
Is there anyone who can wet
My blistering lips in the last moments
With some water drops of life, to prolong
My existence in this earth?–