}} THE WIND by Usha Upadhayay |

Poetry at Sangam

SangamHouse

 










THE WIND by Usha Upadhayay

Translated by Rupalee Burke

Neither saw nor axe
in hand and yet
what gives the west wind
a sharp edge?

Someone should stop it,
stop it!
Wearing anklet of rustling leaves,
the brisk Sharada wind
blows with a jingling sound
and stirs up in the blood
the music of dance

Like a snake- charmer
the sky brings out
from its bag
a flute in the form of rain
to charm the summer wind
hissing furiously
like a venomous serpent
on the city roads

 

USHA UPADHYAY