Who claims I'm ruined? Because I'm without fangs and claws?
Are they necessary? How do you forget the knife
plunged in abdomen up to the hilt? Green cardamom leaves
for the buck, art of hatred and anger
and of war, gagged and tied Santhal women, pink of lungs shattered
by a restless dagger?
Pride of sword pulled back from heart? I don't have
songs or music. Only shrieks, when mouth is opened
wordless odour of the jungle; corner of kin & sin-sanyas;
Didn't pray for a tongue to take back the groans
power to gnash and bear it. Fearless gunpowder bleats:
stupidity is the sole faith-maimed generosity-
I leap on the gambling table, knife in my teeth
Encircle me
rush in from tea and coffee plateaux
in your gumboots of pleasant wages
The way Jarasandha's genital is bisected and diamond glow
Skill of beating up is the only wisdom
in misery I play the burgler's stick like a flute
brittle affection of thev wax-skin apple
She-ants undress their wings before copulating
I thump my thighs with alternate shrieks: VACATE THE UNIVERSE
get out you omnicompetent
conchshell in scratching monkeyhand
lotus and mace and discuss-blade
Let there be salt-rebellion of your own saline sweat
along the gunpowder let the flint run towards explosion
Marketeers of words daubed in darkness
in the midnight filled with young dog's grief
in the sicknoon of a grasshopper sunk in insecticide
I reappear to exhibit the charm of the stiletto.

(Translation of Bengali poem 'Prostuti')