The Cow

she is cow
a blurry white her colour
she is grazing where the rains have created a field
when she finds nice green tufts she pulls them out
the sound is different this time from the previous one

small are her horns and her teats
the eyes still full of childish pranks
by late winters she will be delivering for the first time
her teats will be filled to capacity

presently her ribs shine when she walks
stuffing the grass in hurriedly

after many days
when the frill of her neck becomes supple enough
to be held in ones fist
she too would then remember adolescent coldness
swaying her slow and heavy head
atempting to disperse the flies
sitting on the tears of her bulging eyes.

Translator: Ashok Pande

by viren dangwal

Other poems of DANGWAL (10)

Comments (1)

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