On cold nights words jump, tiptoe and hide With irreconcilable shadows and metaphors and During the day they boldly emerge in retaliation Wrecking their wrath on everything moving From beast to man Ripping apart the cords of modesty and affection Laying waste a landscape from Punjab to Bengal Obviously it’s so very natural For words to transform themselves into animals At one moment growling with hunger And at another belching with satisfaction And then sit quietly on their haunches Sadly reflecting the moon In their eyes.
