Varnamala : Contemporary Oriya Poetry

 
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UMASHANKAR PANDA
 

THE WHITE FLOWERS


In this blossom  
I must carry a basket of  
flowers for you  
as the flower  
is  
a kind of fire  
that burns the unconcerned bee  
and helpless butterflies.  

Shameless  
is  
the wicked wind  
that makes you naked  
any moment.  

If I meet Grief  
this time  
I shall ask,  
what is its intention  
to come so suddenly  
like the lonely girl carrying  
white flowers in her hand  
alone  
as if a magic wand.  
  

Translation :
Sanat Das Patnaik 

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