I have placed my poem in the hands of a burning volcano,
and stood hesitantly for a moment.
It is like a blade of grass eager to share
How the spring has overwhelmed it,
Who else could understand the feeling, except
The mountainous forests of the eastern ghats.
If you like to read out your poetry
Find out someone with a great heart or
Consign it to fire.
When the world around is not ripe enough
The fiery vowels are your only solace.
I realised something for a lifetime:
That even to reflect a beautiful little thing
You need a translucent heart on the other side.
He nodded his head over my poem
And I fell flat before him.
( From Nirvikalpa samgitam, 1986)