(Translated from the Malayalam by the poet)
Don’t have thoughts.
Climb the tallest hill near home.
Contemplate the wind
in all his incarnations:
the spring-wind carrying on his brow
the scent of seven hundred kinds of flowers,
the autumn-wind laughing
and whirling like a mad lover
holding the slender rain in his hands,
the summer-wind with the sun on his head
dancing in crematoriums
turning everything into ash,
the winter-wind tearing open
the bones to freeze even your dreams,
the sea-breeze that carries
depth on her feet,
the mountain-wind that carries
height on his wings,
the whirl-wind flashing a thousand swords,
the tempest carrying trees on his shoulders..
Now hold the storms within you,
stretch your arms forward and
gently raise your feet,
fly, carrying the earth’s moisture,
pushing the clouds apart, fly.
If at all you feel like coming back,
contemplate the rain and become rain,
flow along the valley cursed to think again,
and reach home.
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