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ORIYA POETRY
BINOD CHANDRA NAYAK
THE SNAKE I SAW
I didn't see it,dangling
on the bough bearing the forbidden fruit,
tempting
the nude,primaeval Woman
in God's garden.
Its coiled elegance,its bejewelled hood
I did not see.I didn't see its fragile frame,
winter-struck,
in the dewy fields of November
inching its way
upto the farmer's hearth,
basking,
aroused again,
warmer and fiercer.
Nor did I see it,wafting
in a tame,enchanted game
like a wavelet of the unruly sea
playing around the feet
of the celestial fairy, Urvasi,
on a spring dawn.I saw it
like the cold hand of Death,
I saw it slithering in dark
underneath the bamboo-grove.
And suddenly it sprang up
like a hot summerstorm,
upraised hood,
lightning-tongued;
Under its eyes a spread of desert
and thirsty mirages,
dancing.I saw it:
a garland around the blue neck
of the Lord-of-Destruction:
Shiva!
Above the neck
gnarled,auburn hair.
Lips chanting belligerence.
Venom dripping
from the cracked urn.
And,beyond that I saw
the stream of white consciousness,
the eternal descent of RiverGanga...I saw it:
I saw the snake.
Translation:
The poet.
A Varnamala Visualization