Stone masons give stones dreams to dream;
I set a match to fireworks.
They say one mustn’t step into
one’s father’s life:
I do; I scratch
his elbows,
his armpits.
Stone masons give stones flowers;
I play horns and trumpets.
I overtake the Parsi who stands
turned to stone
by the bodies of four women
bent like bows.
I see my father’s bloodied rump.
In the chaos of the dark
I smoke a cheroot
and smoulder with memories
till my lips get burnt.
Stone masons inseminate stones;
I count exhausted horses.
I harness myself to a cart; I handle
my father’s corpse; I burn.
Stone masons mix blood with stones;
I carry a load of stones.
Stone masons build
a stone house.
I break heads with stones.
Translated from the Marathi by Vinay Dharwadker