Green Angelgirl

A poem on Absinthe

Green Angelgirl

Oh, so you are the divine beauty I read about

in adolescence, whom Toulouse Lautrec, Rimbaud,

Verlaine, Baudelaire, Van Gogh, Modigliani et all

held on to waist curvature and took flights to

healing sweetness of  inebriated light

blazing hallucinatory juice of green lichen

on the coloured thighs of sizzling dance girls

who broke rhythms and picked up their

contorted feelings on paper or canvas

At De Wallen crowds in Amsterdam

wide mouth I ogle at almost naked

showcased blonde dark brown ladies

sourced from all over the world

pink halo tinkling in semi-dark rooms

twenty minutes fixed missionary style.

I count  Euros in my pocket and switch

to the old controversy of form versus content :

which generates more happiness and how

is Absinthe different from others ?

The guide retorts, ‘Why don’t you sleep

yourself and see semen turning green !’

( Translation of Sobuj Devkanya )

Amsterdam, 2007

Love Returns or Love Does Not Return