English Poem 3

kio vd;w vd; ftpijapd; Mq;fpy nkhopngah;gG.

nkhopahf;fk; : jhk]; (N[htpah).

RAIN

‘Cloud’ is her name

Black parturient pregnant

‘Breeze’ is Cloud’s midwife

Breeze says, ‘walk’

Cloud walks

Breeze says, ‘run’

Cloud runs

This training is for easy delivery

No tired to Cloud by doing so

Male ? or female?

This is motherhood’s well

That is Cloud’s instinct

Today? or tomorrow?

Or some seconds left?

This is Breeze’s (expecting) date

Time and date closes

Breeze hastens

Calm exists, next second

Cloud screamed as thunder

Beautiful baby’s birth

Everywhere drips of baby’s cry

Cloud named the baby “RAIN”

-Jovia

English Poem 2

,g;gbAk; Xh; tpgr;rhhp vd;w vd; ftpijapd; Mq;fpy

nkhopngah;gG.

nkhopahf;fk; : jhk]; (N[htpah).

A PROSTITUTE OF THIS SORT

Whether she perished or deteriorated

If perished, let go to perish

If deteriorated, let go to deteriorate

Circumstances of her life cornered her

To that red light brothel

Her flowery body, the voluptuous rapists….

Look there, she as a squeezed flower

Oh, know the truth of her heart

Oh, know the struggle of her heart

Oh, human! Looking the pristine of body

Look the pristine of her heart

In the view of Vedas, she

Is unchaste

In my view, she

Is queen of chaste

She boldly declares as prostitute

Because she knows perished

May these women declare as social-faux

No, these …

Because these women living with dry pride

She may jump into the fire as Sita

Is her only body burning?

No, no

Her immaculate heart too

Her heart known by herself

Has no heart to kill it by her

The fire, Sita jumped into yester is different

Today’s fire is different

In today’s fire she (Sita) burns, these (women) too burns

Oh human repair brain at a corner

If you try

Take her to the lamp house.

-Jovia

English Poem 1

                     Who was a ‘Good Sculptor’ ?

The sun went to sleep        

My think which was deep

The moon spread its light

My eye saw the bright

The river was obstructed by the dam

But my think was obstructed by the damsel

Yes I saw the bright

But it was not the moon light

Damsel’s bare body bright

That was cool to my sight

She stood at a long apart

Really she was wonderful art

No motion no action on her body

I drank the sour toddy

My feelings were pulled by her beauty

I got angry because of my filthy

I toddled and toddled towards her

Because of her fair

I hugged and kissed her lip

Again and again kissed from bottom to tip

But her body was hard and tough

Her breast was tough and bluff

I got fatigue and fell on her bosom

The day was blossom

I woke up by the heat of the sun

I laughed because of the fun

Yes she was a statue

I laughed because of the statue

What a skillful sculptor

Really he was a “Good Sculptor”.

                                            — JOVIA.

                                                    28.04.1990.