Nude at Dawn

Your's is the first redness of the sun,
And of the sun's liquidness is made
The naked gleam of your skin.
There is no coolness, no shade in you
And you are not a haven for my wanderings,
Being of congealed fire! Your's is the gift
Of ceaseless, comfortless wanting
And in the spasms of my desire for you at dawn
The world's longing finds its voice.

© Arka Mukhopadhyay, 2006