Fakir - a Marathi poem

You need to click on the image below to be able to read the words. 

Summer is here

The hiss of water on sunbaked concrete,
the vapor sighs; summer is here.

Not a leaf stirs or tendril moves,
the breeze sleeps on; summer is here.

The gasping bird flies hither and thither
for drops of life; summer is here.

The hot ripe scent of alphonsos,
cushioned in hay; summer is here.

Dripping bodies, lassitude,
powercuts; summer is here.

An overnight trek, a crisp night sky,
starlight sizzles; summer is here.

The sheer delight of cool spray,
the fountain plays; summer is here.

The laburnum showers golden notes
of raag sarang; summer is here.

We tread a carpet crimson gold
violet petals; summer is here.

And then comes a call, the hawk cuckoo cries,
"Alakaline, the rain is here!"

(c)Alaka Yeravadekar

Try this:
Each verse can be sung to sixteen beats.

The Edge

Have you ever lived on the edge?
gulping down fear
trying hard to not look beyond
or smell the blood from your cracked feet
to keep your footing on the slippery rim
Scanning the horizon
for a careless jostle, the shove
that could send you tumbling?

One day I jumped off the edge
and discovered
there was no below.

© Alaka Yeravadekar