Invisible

I have never seen you; may be I never will. Still I know you are there, like some unseen stars, like the first wonder-filled flap of the just-created bird, like some half-formed words on the frontiers of language, like some planets, fuming fluid yet. 2 Your crystal-voice quickens my heartbeat, like coffee, like pepper, like jazz, like drugs. 3 You are a dripping tunnel with light at the end. I long to get wet passing through you listening to the songs of the forest-birds that thrill the wind. 4 The scent of how many flowers from your body shining far-away Is igniting my senses? 5 Let those hands keep moving, their bangles laughing, shaping the fragile idols of love. 6 Who said life is a tree that blossoms just once and then dries up? This is that moment, unrepeatable, of blossoming. 7 I am a grain of sand and you, the endless sea. Let me multiply and be the earth to contain all of you? 8 I tremble all over like the tallest building in a quake-hit city. You are the oldest of its roads. Split open so that I may tumble down to be devoured by your womb and open my fresh eyes into the light of a city yet to be born. 2012 (Translated from Malayalam by the poet)