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T h e   B a n k s   o f  
t h e   B r a h m a p u t r a

Your voice has the lilt
of the Brahmaputra’s blue waves
Soft and gentle they flow
Over me
And drench me with longing.
And I lie in stupor
As I dream of you.

Today you are angry,
the river is in flood.
Your eyes dark and black,
Shiva, you rise
From the waters
And coil around me
Your serpents of desire.

Do not tell me that this is right.
I will not understand.
Your dark side makes me
shrink and withdraw
For I cannot withstand
The power of your waves
Dark with fury.
I only want to know
the gentle caress of your voice—
The call of Krishna’s flute
On the banks of the Brahmaputra.


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