Rediscovered an old favourite....
(1929 - 1993)
city of temples and poets,
who sang of cities and temples,
every summera river dries to a tricklein the sand,
baring the sand ribs,
straw and women's hairclogging the watergates
at the rusty barsunder the bridges with patches
of repair all over them
the wet stones glistening like sleepy
crocodiles, the dry ones
shaven water-buffaloes lounging in the sun
The poets only sang of the floods.
He was there for a day
when they had the floods.
People everywhere talked
of the inches rising,
of the precise number of cobbled steps
run over by the water,
risingon the bathing places,
and the way it carried off three village houses,
one pregnant womanand a couple of cows
named Gopi and Brinda as usual.
The new poets still quoted
the old poets, but no one spoke
in verseof the pregnant woman
drowned, with perhaps twins in her,
kicking at blank walls
even before birth.
the river has water enough
to be poetic
about only once a year
it carries awayin the first half-hour
three village houses,
a couple of cows
named Gopi and Brinda
and one pregnant woman
expecting identical twins
with no moles on their bodies,
with different coloured diapers
to tell them apart.
You can read more of Ramanujan's beautiful verse from http://oldpoetry.com/oauthor/show/A.K._Ramanujan