At Serbidje Square (Belgrade) Poem by Harish k. Thakur

Step by step
You ascend the culverting
Serfs of Belgrade.
The scintillating confluence
Of Danube and Sava
Pierce the thick mist-clouds
And paint your face white.

In the streets of the city bright
Legless machines
Ply like hovering clouds.

Under the varied range
Of the spectacular blazers
Overcoats and leather jackets,
Black slacks fail to hide
The incandescence of
The bright shining reeds
Full of fats.

At the wide Serbidje Square
A couple coagulates
To the endless mirth,
And I behold the flesh
Making hay
On the palm of morality.
















I just fluff
The fire simmering
In a puff
Holding the pane tightly
At a kiosk.

The weather of the city
Is unstable
And so the ladies.
The deceptive wind
Turns the bright day
Into a day of restless rain,
And plug the roads of life instantly.

Men are more gentlemen,
Draped in aristocratic attire,
And bathed in perfume
They gently walk
To the tune of ladies
And of course the times
That whisker away
Friskily.

In the chilling cold
You aspire hot patrissage,
Dream of the pretty faces,
Juicy legs, jelly-lips
And find the laundry girl
Knocking against your door
Collecting the spoilt garments.