contemporary poem

Having Been Happy.


Having been happy in touching metallic skies

Or fingering the moon for its dusty overlay

Having been happy in moving orbs and the shores

Or spreading the sunshine to the burrowed moles.

Watching a lonely planet amid reluctant universe

Communications with eyelids in retinues of mankind

Having been happy in sweeping the volcanic dust

From a cold planet cast under the Brahma’s curse.


Having been happy in holding that repose

Which contained hidden geometry of the universe

Having been happy in consoling the suppressed cries

Of the shoring waves under the moonlit skies.

View durlabh's Full Portfolio


I ask the judges, defense, prosecutors, jury members, and all those present in the courtroom who happened to be here by chance of entertainment, to put a blindfold and to fill their years with wax.
Now that you do not see and hear me, I can address the space, the air between us—the only thing that is still connecting us.
The one we are invoking is not inside you, but in the numbers and in me because you invoked him to the number and I invoked him to the soul. That is the difference between us: you do not know the soul, and your numbers are alien to me. I honestly do not want to understand you, just as you do not want to understand me. But here we are, against each other—powerful and powerless
Powerful and powerless

You cannot defend yourselves in front of me because you do not know what I am charging you for. Even if you could hear me, you would not understand. You cannot hear my defense and that makes me happy, because, if you could hear it, you would judge me more strictly. Indeed, is there any greater sentence for you and me?
You and me
You are my punishment now, in this moment, in every moment when someone uses my word.
I am your distant punishment, the one that my body will not live to see. But my ashes, blown away from Pyros, will keep roaming the wastelands. Like sorrow and a bird
Sorrow and a bird
Truly, I have no defense in front of you; I cannot defend myself from you. How can the yeast be defended from water and flour, except by rising, by growing fast and being burnt in the oven, as bread. I am indeed the accused and the bread in front of you
The accused and the bread
What would you be eating if my guilt was not there? I remember, because it used to be that way, you would crumble yourselves biting each other. I would not be guilty in front of the little ones, and you would be hungry and sick from the emptiness and madness
Emptiness and madness

I must not defend myself, because in that way I would make you great. You have forced me to defense because of those who are quoting my words. You know very well that you are only as great as I let you grow
As far as I let you
I am an illusion that has a name, that speaks and that is remembered. I rarely appear, and then I am a warning. You are silent, nameless and if you speak it is not heard, not recorded—as if you were shadows and oblivion
Shadows and oblivion

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is from my new project under title: Squirrelwolf.
I am inviting you to this project to participate in it
You can download text of the book from next address:
All your impressions are more than welcome and i will publish them in the book.