Ill Omens

Early this morning,
Perched on the tree at the edge of my garden,
A crow relentlessly caws—"Kaak, Kaak."
Lately, even my dreams have turned foul;
I know not what is coming,
But I am losing my mind.

In the gallop of my dreams,
I have lost my golden teeth.
On the steep, colourful slopes of memory,
I have lost the soles of my shoes.
Haunted by my dreams, constricted by my waking life,
I see hooded cobras swaying in every dawn and dusk.
Black cats dart across every path I try to take.

And what of the rest?
Even the dog, once loyal and quiet,
Howls through the night for reasons unknown.
From the trees to the north, the owl’s hoot terrifies the evening,
And from the southern yard, the fox cries out its warning.

Even the goat at home gave birth to a 'Chanduwa' kid,
And the cow I brought in as a blessing
Bore a 'Chihane' calf last year.
I waited for a sign of fortune,
But curse it all!
This year’s calf is a 'Gaade'—born for the earth.

Early this morning,
Perched on the tree at the edge of my garden,
A crow relentlessly caws...
I know not what is coming,
But I am losing my mind.

Plumstead, London, 2005