What He Said after a quarrel, remembering his wedding night -

Akananuru 136

Serving in endless bounty
white rice and meat
cooked to a turn,
drenched in ghee,
to honored guests.

and when the bird omens were right,
at the perfect junction
of the Wagon Stars with the moon
shining in a wide soft-lit sky,

wedding site decorated, gods honored,
kettledrum and marriage drum
sounding loud the wedding beat,

the women who'd given her a bridal bath
— piercing eyes looking on, unwinking —
suddenly gone,

her near kin
strung a white thread on her
with the split soft-backed leaves
of the sirissa,
and with the aruku grass,

its sacred root a figurine,
its buds cool, fragrant,
dark-petalled, blue
as washed sapphire,

brought forth by the thundering skies
of first rains in valleys
where adolescent calves
feed on them,

they brought her to me
decked in new clothes,
rousing my desire
even in the wedding canopy,
wedding noises noisy as pounding rain,

on that first night,

and when they wiped her sweat,
and gave her to me,
she splendid with ornament,
I said to her

who was body now to my breath,
chaste without harshness,
wrapped all over in a robe
new, uncrushed,

" It's hot. Sweat is breaking out
on that crescent, your brow.
Open your robe a little,
let the wind cool it, "

and even as I spoke,
my heart hasty with desire,
I pulled it off

and she stood exposed,
her form shining
like a sword unsheathed,
not knowing how to hide herself,
cried Woy !
in shame, then bowed, begged of me,
as she loosened her hair
undoing the thick colorful wreath
of broken lily petals

and, with the darkness of black full tresses,
hand-picked flowers on them
still luring the bees,

her private
Author of original: 
Virrurru Muteyinananar
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.