(Translated from the Marathi by Sachin Ketkar.)
Pouring out of words
This dead eyelash
Everything is arid
Even so, time is still alive
Resting on it
Dali’s watch still elongates
The tongue of time
Soaked and squirming
How come these black and red ants of desires
Are still alive
Who is alive?
Is it time? Or is it us? Or is it this shapeless space?
This throbbing breath
Or are we listening to the ticking of this watch
Primitive millions of years ancient
What is behind that huge eyelid?
A moment a silence
Or a dead tear?
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