Call me Kameshvara,
Lord of Lust.

My father, Shiva,
dances on Forgetfulness,
whirls within a wheel of fire.

My mother, Parvati,
threads severed heads...

Below their fastness
in the clouds,
the holy river runs
to rhythms of destruction,

darts through dark ravines
to loll at last upon the plain.

Here, in Kanpur, Varanasi,
Patna, Bhagalpur,
I sift its simmering desires;

among the ashes of the dead,
distil its sentiment.

All ecstasies accrue to me.