The deserted temple
(Sravanabèlagola)
The god is gone. His cave is bare.
In shadow from the sun
The clotted bats hang from the roof.
Below, the scorpions run
And pious folk no longer come
Lest evil should be done.
Ruins of flowers on the floor
Bear imprints of his feet.
They point through the door into
The many-miraged heat.
His voice was heard. His fragrance kept
This prisoned air once sweet.
His voice was heard: It told his tribe
To leave this sun-cursed hill.
They went, and left his dwelling here.
They went; it was his will.
Who piled these stones knows when he comes
And where he stays until.
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akam/ puram
(for Gowri)
Parrot,
green parrot,
green parrot in a cage,
speak to me
and I will give you honeyed milk
to keep sweet your tongue:
speak one word to me.
Moon,
hornèd moon,
Lord of the hornèd moon,
Lord of the city of the hornèd moon
by the resounding sea:
parrot,
sweet parrot,
sweet parrot in a cage,
speak His name to me.
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