Kasi (3)

Look a little southward, facing the suns,

When northward blaze the morning burning pyres.

Ghats of Kasi, all a crescent that runs

Miles with majestic mirror-river that never tires.

Morning sun rays sparkling on waves dancing,

Colours all changing – theirs and of water.

Infant sun keeps growing in power, rising,

Shining with heat – burning stone and river.

Brown patched railings, rows of clothes just washed,

Spread drying endless on strings and steps of stone.

Rotten hulled boats, water-rot some more; sun-shrink,

Post-immersed idols dragged to shore, just returned.

Closer the river, stench of filth-fixed stink

Stays and grows its proportion and power till monsoon.

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