Turban tilted rakishly to hide the bald spot, but how will that mask the godlessness in your heart? Such dandy twirled whiskers! Such fancy tripping speech! Fool! Death tomorrow thumps on a slackened drum. Your charade goes poof, a miserable fart. Akho says: Rotted doors fall apart.
Akho (1591–1656)
tr. from Gujarati by Gieve Patel











