Stung
Beside the city of temples
Beats of dhol
Clash of cymbals
Fire juggles
Red clutters
As a keeper of secret
Blessed be the destoyers.
Ancient the gateway must be
Chaotic roar encouraging her rage
Beside the river of dismay, which never merged
Sits she on her throne
The deity of the dark
Devotees lit lamp.
The sky was darker that night
And there smiled the moon
Another boy must’ve overgrown emotional blackmailing
Clickin' pictures of concrete gathering.
Quicksand
Having included in her
Almost all of the clay by this time of the year
Now only haystacks kiss the banks
On this very field thousands of frameworks gather
Some taking a morning walk
Some in search of bones of Maheshasura.
She tasted the blood,
She hasted for the divine.
Not so far from the Bay of Bengal
She waits every night
Being caressed by the fog and the mist
To cast a reflection of returned rays of light.
As by the afternoon the red fiery ball will peep into Boudh
Another renowned Balijatra in the next five days
The gratitude will celebrate sun and sand.
ବାଲିଯାତ୍ରା - Balijatra
All the rides and all the swings almost ready
Beetle in their mouths the sailors steady
The wooden swan will take them to
Java, Sumatra, Lanka and Bali
Cultural exchange reinaugurates festivity.
Sandy beaches
Scorching suns
Marching horns
Lingaraja spun
Triangular is the flag that unfurls high
Wind has always been a friend of time
As a team of boatmen departs
While their children wait for their uncles’
Tax exempted gifts while they return.
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