The Ionized Urn. Poem by Subrata Ray
The Ionized Urn.
The cause talkative,
The primal burns,
The honey oozing hive,
Are haunted by ionized urn.
Mistress Transpire,
Mr. Welding pipe,
Strive and thrive,
To be ionized with mystic knife.
Ah! the swooning under a fit,
A bear in the cover of a rabbit,
The rising of geography in history’s habit,
The jumping of quanta from forest-orbit,
All turn into an ionized urn.
Lo! my son and your daughter,
Flirt, fuse and flatter,
They are urged to have the ionized butter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 11:37:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A strangely compelling poem. unsettling collision of images. as one from a foreign culture i hope you see this comment as a weak way of saying i think this is a subtly powerful poem. thank you.