You can’t embrace it, you can’t reject it.
You’ll never escape Love’s command.
Women’s faces are lamps held up in the market.
Their breasts are golden pots on the front porch.
Luscious mouths, shared honey.
We make love to bodies. Make no mark.
Warm curries on the plate, lover’s quarrels, displays of pride,
spots of shade in the hot sun, occasional hours of love,
strings you can’t break, mysterious smiles,
pain in the midst of goodness, words within words,
oil poured on fi re, hopes that never end,
the space inside desire, like drinking butter
when you’re thirsty:
finding the god on the hill
is the one good thing that is real.
- Annamayya
God on the Hill: Temple Poems from Tirupati
valaci pai ko naga r?du valadani to laga r?du
