GN (6-4-1968 / kerala, india)

0487-2603272*

Thanks,2603272
You didn't
Entrust my language
To the police.
Didn't feed it
To the loud speakers.
You cut it short
Through the dark, long
And the crowded street,
In to fraternity.

In the family photo
No one included you.But
Your veins
Supplied blood
To my scattered race

The orphans
Searched through you.
The lost howled.
The strong raged.
You flew past
Pouring fire in to the
Darkness of each ear.

In each edition
The pages in your autobiography
Increased.
During crisis
We partitioned it
In the name of God
Interpreted it.
Acted.

Your surface
Was teeming with
The bubbles of words.
But
Torn by prickly sadness
Were your depths.
Those who have not seen
Those ajantas* and harappas*
Considered you
A toy.

Thanks.I know.
Through your empty space
The word of the dead
Revolve the earth
In orbits
Nearest to humans.

Translatted from malayalam by c.s.venkiteswaran
*phone no. perhaps of the poet
*an ancient cave temple famous for murals
*an ancient civilisation

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 1 votes ) 3

Other poems of NARAYANAN (3)

Comments (3)

Its surely a good piece of writing. I have read it in malayalam. Thanks to the translator. Both poet and translator have done their job with fantastic precision. Nothing lost in translation.
sure, it needed interpretation, but it's a damn fine piece of writing!
This is such an intriguing poem. But I confess I don't undertand it. Is the number a phone number as you suggest or does it represent something more than a single person? The final sentence is gorgeous.