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us in orange sun A middleman had kept him there locked And it was when the sun decided to set He had set him free for us to eye-contact And listen in our eyes to his bamboo flute Of fine music played in dancing fingers As he plays it on the banks of the river When a primordial girl-friend closed eyes In moonlit rapture, as the moon up there Swept across the ripples of the night river. The hill was where the cows chewed their Soft rapturous cud under, the hill of cows As the flute played in softly closed cow-eyes And the milk flowed from their udders softly. Then the little God lifted the hill on finger So the cows can safely chew their soft cud Safe from raining gods of thunder- lightning. The little God of flute played exquisite flute Behind our eye-lids as our little son with eyes That never grew to the man of world in pants And no chit of a girl took him away from us.