I have a name, had it for thirty
Years, chosen by someone else
For convenience, but when you say
Don't spoil your name, I feel I
Must laugh, for I know I have a life
To be lived, and each nameless
Corpuscle in me, has its life to
Be lived . . . why should this name, so
Sweet-sounding, enter at all the room
Where I go to meet a man
Who gives me nothing but himself, who
Calls me in his private hours
By no name, or the city's dusty
Streets where on afternoons
I walk, looking for old books, antiques,
And new thrills that might come my
Way? Why should I remember or bear
That sweet-sounding name, pinned to
Me, a medal, undeservingly
Gained, at moments when, all of
Me is ablaze with life ? You ask of
Me a silly thing. Carry
This gift of a name like a corpse and
Totter beneath its weight
And perhaps even fall... I who love
This gift of life more than all!
Years, chosen by someone else
For convenience, but when you say
Don't spoil your name, I feel I
Must laugh, for I know I have a life
To be lived, and each nameless
Corpuscle in me, has its life to
Be lived . . . why should this name, so
Sweet-sounding, enter at all the room
Where I go to meet a man
Who gives me nothing but himself, who
Calls me in his private hours
By no name, or the city's dusty
Streets where on afternoons
I walk, looking for old books, antiques,
And new thrills that might come my
Way? Why should I remember or bear
That sweet-sounding name, pinned to
Me, a medal, undeservingly
Gained, at moments when, all of
Me is ablaze with life ? You ask of
Me a silly thing. Carry
This gift of a name like a corpse and
Totter beneath its weight
And perhaps even fall... I who love
This gift of life more than all!
Kamala Das
sweetly
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