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English Poetry in a Bamboo Bush

Of happy moments in the field of intolerable dreams
I’m visualising in it a life of essence
While ennui fails me day in and day out
As I fritter my time away in the killing fields.

Poetry is better in English:
It smacks of the Foreign, in our land so barren
A motif of greener grass that others own;
In my mother tongue,
I chew over a few verses but they are worse,
They taste so native, so bland
Like the loadshedding evening on a bandh
Like the defects of English;
Bring in more English nouns and verbs
and adjectives from faraway lands,
We can relish quality in quantity
Get more adverbs to show
We have been spending the nights listlessly;
Whitman and Auden and Ginsberg are my heroes
My love for English poetry is more than
The sweet sentiments of Khamba, he had for Thoibi,

—I would still not care to read Hijam Anganghal
Until I can go to a wedding, wearing what I want
I'm allergic to all the attires and apparels so aglitter
The English and Hindi and Bengali are too much
But if not nothing, let me wear the English poetry.



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