Of a Calendar Hanging Listlessly on the Wall

When whisky wants
The modification of man is over in a peg
Or two, for a vagabond like me,
Like the spring does to the dendrobium
But it’s only a spring of frustration for me,
Of my blindness that sees the big world so small and mean,
Of all the beautiful people longing only beautiful things,
Of a fresh new year arriving with more bombs and bullets;
Pots should replace drinks,
It makes me want to listen to Tapta.

The Chinese have included all the animals in their calendar;
Should we now include all the kinds of drinks too?
Would mentioning China urge
the United States of India to send more armies?
Nationalism can be spared for the next year,
In sobriety it’s easy to hide the sight
Of all the patriots and the bloody nationalists
In some meaningless words, in some bloody poetry;
But as soon as the whisky comes uninvited
From NFC and NAFED, does it arrive in galore
The man of change do accompany too;
Should we compare the number of people you killed
with the number of bottles we have finished?
We have the western calendar.



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