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Tag: Basava

The waters of joy

Poet: Basava

When
like a hailstone crystal
like a waxwork image
the flesh melts in pleasure
     how can I tell you?

The waters of joy
broke the banks
and ran out of my eyes.

Don’t make me hear all day

Poet: Basava

Don’t make me hear all day
     ‘Whose man, whose man, whose man is this?’

Let me hear, ‘This man is mine, mine
     this man is mine.’

Make of my body the beam of a lute

Poet: Basava

Make of my body the beam of a lute
     of my head the sounding gourd
     of my nerves the strings
     of my fingers the plucking rods.