Alka Balain
Poems by Alka Balain
sit on the banks of Benares
with Sant Kabir in my lap
breathing the ancient scriptures.
The air settles in moist colours
of marigold desires.
My soul is smeared with sindoor...
with Sant Kabir in my lap
breathing the ancient scriptures.
The air settles in moist colours
of marigold desires.
My soul is smeared with sindoor...