'Pathunku Kuzhiyil Pirantha Kuzhanthai’ (poems of deebachelvan) poem book was released on 12 of January 2009 by kalachuvadu in Chennai book fair. # four poems are Translated on deebam english site. # "The war begins from the Childen’s dreams" poem was Translated in some days ago on deebam english site.

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

KOUBRU MOUNTAIN’S DAUGHTER





*A poem in Tamil by Theepachelvan captioned KOUBRU MALAIYIN MAGAL
(Daughter of Koubru Mountain)
rendered in English by Latha Ramakrishnan

You, the darling daughter of Koubru Mount
with deer aplenty, frightened and apprehensive
wandering hither and thither _
and the red jasmine flowers blooming all over
call off your decades-long fasting and have something to eat.

In this soil that is for the sale of guns
don’t you remain hungry any further.

The pricking sense of guilt that those people
who stood by the side of your emaciated body
experienced at every lunch time -
whenever they hold their cups and bowls _
Oh, let it subside at least from henceforth.

Let the punishment of forceful feeding inflicted upon you
and the imprisonment of food tubes inserted into your nostrils
end now
and please have your food
the memory of which has left you long since.

You, the Iron Woman who,
bearing the hunger of Manipurians
who faced Assam Rifles’ ruthless assault
with their sacred nakedness,
has filled your empty stomach with dreams;
your heart is as soft and tender
as that of an innocent child.

Your body that bore the brunt of huger
drying up with desert-like heat
proving a veritable playground for Death
is indeed a powerful weapon!

Your voice that never ceased to rage and boil
never allowing death to come anywhere closer
and leaving it to taste defeat,
is but wild fire!

My friend, in bomb-cultivating soil
please don’t fight anymore with your tender heart.

The power to stretch their rifles
for inserting many a penis of the army
into hapless vaginas,
the power to arrest anybody
with no rhyme or reason _
thus many turned missing
children with their future dead and gone
eyes that search in all directions
for the Sun, in vain ....
In all these our lands prove
no different….

Oh, the darling daughter of Koubru Mount!
so endearing to my heart –
Our land which has borne Thileepan as its son
knows for sure
that the food you had after years too many
would not have appeased your all-consuming hunger.

For, your heart forever languishes,
starving for Freedom.
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For Irom Chanu Sharmila

Thanks to Kumudam

Friday, November 4, 2016

LIEUTENANT OF PEACE



Hit by the cruel stone thrown
turning the dawn terribly darkened
the great blossom of words lay broken.

In the city where blasted words of peace dangle as
buntings
the great grand star was felled and thrown down.

Underneath the violently torn peace-treaty
lay strewn the particles of clever smile which could defeat
manipulations.

He who had extended an all warm smile
as bright chrysanthemum
to those who came to our capital city
giving them a helping hand
even yesterday
lay there with his lips covered by the wet sand.

The white-pigeon that was sitting on thorny Morniga tree
rose and flew.
The falguni wearing the face of deadly lion
with its wings broken
fell off from the
Jamun tree.

in the tiny drop of silence
Of his countenance
Filled with the smile of silent thirst
Your immoral war stands defeated.

-Theepachelvan

02.11.2007 : widely known as the lieutenant of peace, the leader of the political wing of LTTE, Su.Pa.Thamizhchelvan died valiantly in the aerial attack by the Srilankan forces

Sunday, October 2, 2016

MY CHILD IS A TERRORIST



When he said that peace and harmony flowered out of their guns
I didn’t ask him how peace would be

When he said that security was being born of their eyes
I didn’t ask him how to feel safety.

When he said that they didn’t seize our lands
I didn’t ask about the Buddha statues and army camps.

When he said that we were all the citizen of one and the same country
I didn’t ask him how he would treat his brother.

When he said that none disappeared
I didn’t ask him where those surrendered had gone.

That they had not raped and killed any of our women
Nor disrobed any of our young men and shot them on the nape – when he claimed so
I didn’t ask wherefrom the blood flowed on the land.

While he went on to say
that they had killed none
and that all those killed were terrorists
I said
that my child was a terrorist.

Poem: Theepachelvan
Translation: Latha Ramakirishnan

his poem by theepachelvan captioned MY CHILD IS A TERRORIST is a very significant one, penned by one of the very poignant and effective voices championing the cause of human rights and Liberty, Equality and fraternity. this poem gives us a poignant picture of the children of Tamils who fought for their freedom and were betrayed and butchered, and branded as Terrorists. Latha Ramakrishnan, a reputed writer and translator has rendered this poem in English
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Wednesday, September 14, 2016

BUNKER OF THE DARK AGE


DEEPACHELVAN’S POEM captioned இருண்டகாலத்தின் பதுங்குழி
Rendered in English by Latha Ramakrishnan(*First Draft)

In the frozen faces of those wordless, voiceless
the flies revel, singing and dancing

In between day and night
when a mammoth army went past our village
a child playing there went missing.

There is none to accept the child
that was arrested on the land
sans witnesses;
The children hide and crouch
in a dark age once again.
No aeroplanes hovering above
Shells don’t come from any side.
Children feel threatened at the sight of
sky and directions.
We possess no guns;
No cannons;
No aircrafts;
We have renounced battlefronts;
Have shut all the barracks;
Yet we are surrounded;
A war is being waged.
Along the road where the army
goes around keeping vigil
someone had halted his cycle
and went away.
I am living in a house
where someone keeps knocking at the doors;
I am pedalling my cycle in the street
where someone keeps chasing with riffle.
In a land where everyone is being rummaged
where is a bunker for me?

Children have not seen glorious times
All I have _
darkened bunkers

Sunday, August 21, 2016

THE VOICES OF THOSE SOWN





When the houses and tombs and
temples are being destroyed
a puppy wanders
wondering where to go.

For the departed souls without tombs
An d for those living without houses
What can the god denied of abode do?

When the houses of those living are being erased
A mother wandering with a
Kaarthigai month’s Kantthal flower
asks for a piece of land
for the tomb turned to rubbles
of her dead son.

No children
No tombs
Upon the trees where Kaanthal flowers
bloomed as a dream
lights glow.

When space is denied even while living
and after death too
what at all can the dead
and the living do?

What for we died
What for we survive

You might think –
when even God is
denied a place
with what hope the others exist.

Our land’s tombs
are not the ones awaiting Death
They are the dwelling place
where those buried
with the dream of a beautiful life
are reposing.

As the voice of children
As the voice of tombs
We will ask -
Because it is our Mother Land
We haven’t taken away anybody’s .

(POEM OF Deepachelvan captioned விதைக்கப்பட்டவர்களின் குரல் from his poem-collection 'எனது குழந்தை பயங்கரவாதி' translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan)

Friday, July 22, 2016

POEM IS THE WEAPON I POSSESS!



I possess no guns,
nor cannons;
Neither bombs nor Tanks.
All I have are mere words.
They are not mine
They belong to my soil.
They are the words of my people.

Those valourous troops
wandering vigilantly with guns
going around in tankers…
Oh, why do they fear my poems?

Enquiring in the neighbourhood,
in the dwellings facing mine,
counting my footprints in the street
calling from unknown numbers
and disconnecting without response _

Making the dogs howl in the well of night
Riding in the bikes menacingly during noontime
Searching for my books and probing them
All these would unsettle me – so thought the valourous troop.

Oh, you would always be afraid of my words
that break your guns_
that smash your explosives _
that bombard your tankers _
that destroy your camps _

We fight for our Mother Land
You wage war for stealing our land

Therefore, you would always be afraid
of my poems;
ofour people;
of our land.

Theepachelvan
Translation by Latha Ramakirishnan

Publish : Globaltamilnews (http://bit.ly/2aiyr3J)


Sunday, July 17, 2016

SON OF THE WAVES


Your pet dog
languishes in the memory of the kisses that you lavished on it
when you came home
during your last vacation.

Mother who plungeddeep into
the gory tales written on the sky
with the sulfuric smoke
is yet to surface.

At midnight one day
when you exploded on our sea
massive lightning flashed across.

If only she had known that you
would return as a mere news of victory
Amma would have givena few more kisses at least,to her heart’s content.

In the tea-cup you last drank
a drop of your smile lingers.

In the sea where you exploded
fetching water in an earthen-cup
looking at your thirsty face
Mother speaks.

On the day
when thechant your name
that rises along the waves
ceases to be
this ocean
would have turned dry.
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Poems: Theepachelvan
Translation: Latha Ramakirishnan

SMOULDERING PLANT


The secrets piled up,
the tales aplenty untold _
in the countenance concealed
blended in fire
as darkness embedded in the ocean.

In the wings of a bird that surfaces from
the sea wherein your all merciful smile
dissolved
there seeps a cinder.

Swallowing fire
the black warriors sleep in the air.
With dark clouds melting and dissolving in the soil
the seeds burst.

In the spot which exploding, melted
carrying sulphuric,
popped up a plant
with fire-flowers.

The world writhed and twisted
with your oceanic quiet
filled with the fragrance of smouldering fire.

Your hand waving infinitely
and the ocean-frozen live smile
would prick as thorn
till the very end of this world.
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Poems: Theepachelvan
Translation: Latha Ramakirishnan


Monday, June 20, 2016

I AM NOT A SRI LANKAN - II



For crossing passages
I have a visa
as Israelis passport
in the hands of Palestinians.

For going past the ‘Checkpoints
I possess an identity card
as the American ID that the Iraqis have.

For spending
I have several coins
just as those French coins
with Syrian citizens.

In our soil
a national anthem is aired
just as the Indian National anthem
sung in Manipur.

In my land
a flag is hoisted
as the flag of China
flying in Tibet.

In my finger
the impression of landless refugee is seen
as that branded by fire
in Myanmar’s hand.

Theepachelvan
Translated from Tamil by Latha Ramakirishnan

Publish:jds (http://bit.ly/29Ry6UI)

Monday, May 7, 2012

SOMEONE’S CHILD


A poem by Deebachelvan in Thamizh titled
YAAROE ORUVARUDAIYA PILLAI
[யாரோ ஒருவருடைய பிள்ளை]

Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan

The dirges and the requiems being heard all over
the Land destroyed
melt and dissolve the fortresses.
The life and the face that can never be destroyed
in the burial ground
keep growing.
That being smashed and broken,
that, mutilated beyond recognition and being buried in
is but the dear child of someone.

What to do with those tombs
so cruelly demolished?
The powdered bones that can never be contained in anything _
Oh, can they fill it all in their feeding cups and bowls?
Oh, can one eat them and get relieved of hunger
and so dance merrily?
When the parents - God knows who -
cry incessantly within,
beating their hearts in silence
and lament
the tears drown the tombs.

Someone’s child
lie there bearing the impact of bomb
for Something.
In the Erukkalai forest that is not accessible
Someone has burnt ‘Saambraani’.
The smoke rises.
Lamps are lit.
Gathering round the ‘Erukkalai’ roots
Some are discussing.

Once upon a time these hapless people
had sent their children for Something.
In each and every tomb
that are being kicked and demolished
for each and everything
Someone’s child who had all along been deep in sleep,
squirms now, sleepless.

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THE LAND THAT NEVER SLEEPS


A POEM IN Thamizh by Deepachelvan
titled URANGAADHA NILAM[உறங்காத நிலம்]

Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan

In this time when Land and beings
Wander sleeplessly: I know the place where you remain
With sleep proving elusive.
Monstrous feet that devovour Land
stamp on and crush the land full of seeds.
Like you
All have been but buried alive.
Therefore, the Land writhes and quivers every now and then.
Blood tears dreams and love keep
seeping everywhere

In the Land where you remain wide awake
Demons wander hungrily.
In the night when the Land is being plundered,
felled and taken away in wagons
Alas, what can you do?
Ah, what will you do those words that you retain
in my remembrance?
Your strands of hair getting entwined in the land
keep flying always.

When I long to kiss you
I kiss the land of our communion.
Underneath the land of our being
You wander in search of me
Are there streets and lanes?
Are there spaces where we can mutually exchange our love
And affection?
as our Great Dream that lies frozen in blood
our love too is alive.
Just as our Love
Our Dream too is immortal.
Probing the sandy stretches and plunging into the small sea
I keep searching for you.

The loneliness of the separation after defeat
is getting filled up with the deadly darkness that kill me.
In these times bereft of your kisses
my sky remains all dark.
Regarding you
Our city and land keep deceiving me
Along with the burning thirst of our dreamy people
The taste of our kiss too – this Land knows.
The Land that stays wide awake
insists that it would sprout again.
With the Dream and Time with its different hours
oh, will you also sprout
from the Land of Love?

Friday, April 6, 2012

ANANDHAPURAM: VALOUR POISONED AND BURNT


A poem in Thamizh by Deebachelvan titled
ANANDHAPURAM: NANJU PARUKKAPPATTU KARUKKAPPATTA VEERAM
[ஆனந்தபுரம் : நஞ்சு பருக்கப்பட்டு கருக்கப்பட்ட வீரம்]

Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan

In those days the Land was languishing; feeling forlorn; forsaken.
With children engaged in war in the battle-front
that lay under siege
mothers, brothers and all other dear and near ones
were terrorized by the impending danger of war.
Turning their very life into veritable fence
They stood firm on the ground.

Those dream-heroes adorned
the tales of victorious battles.
Kind face
Words drenched in love
The courage and valour of fighting for the people –
Everything was sucked out by deadly poison.
Thanks to those selfless and straight-forward warriors
Thanks to their dream-filled thoughts and ideas
the Great Land is wearing a grand wholesome green hue.

The trap that caught them
had all sorts of scheming strategies; technologies.
And they fought a long time to defeat them all.
The battle-front endangered by evil plans
darkening with the shadow of Death
went on warning, cautioning,
with its all consuming desire to
destroy the Dream

The birds were caught in the thorns and were
fluttering in vain; deep pain.
The children fell into the trenches and
were struggling to come out.
The soft little deer so pitiably entrapped
inside the killer-machines
were on the throes of death.

with the Land being stuck inside the trap
with cunning schemes hatched and inscribed
all the fences turning into terrible threats
keep wounding the flowers and enjoying it.
The forest where lives burn smelt acutely everywhere.

For children who had eaten dream
the dosage of poison has been increased.
.
The deadly poison poured on
and burnt the
courage and valour, nourished and raised
in dream-filled smile,
in those eyes
in the eyes and in its vision filled with ambition
in the intense desire for Independence_
is flowing out and
turning the land all drenched.

Blood had spread, stuck glued, dried up and darkened
in the bodies piled up in Aanandhapuram
with the poison-administered bodies the Great Land
turning poisonous
the courage and valour nourished so well
lay there scorched and scarred.

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THE BLOOD OF THE LAST LITTLE BOY

A poem by deepachelvan
Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan


In the eyes of those little boys that refuse to close
float scenes infinite of crimes.
In those mouths that remain open
trying to utter something till the very end
dying declarations, hidden, keep echoing.
Born in blood
and with the blood not getting dried up
all through their lives
but sticking and oozing all over the body-
with their limbs, torn to shreds by bullets and bombs,
falling apart
when the little boys of our land kept wandering
the ‘Ilaiyaangal’ relished their wounds,
having a real feast at their expense and
so made them cease to be.
When, in the full glare of everybody-
in the raging war against our Mother Land
when the children were sacrificed,
when they were weeping, looking at their mothers
the laps of those hapless mothers were
filled with blood.
From vaginas to babies -with everything smashed and torn
The root of our children’s soil was burnt.
The Weapons of War
went on a killing spree, inflicting wounds of the worst kind
and killing the children,
with a fine sense of Cruelty.
Plucking out the longing eyes and erasing their words-
the little boys were wiped out
without a trace.
when in the bitter war against little boys
they were wiped away, rooted out
the Eartyh turned deserted.
When the battalions that butcher the innocent children_
born as sons of the soil in the land being destroyed­­_
so systematically
sucking and relishing their blood,
made holes with the gun in the heart of
the last child of the land
and sucked his blood to their heart’s content
all the children had been felled.

கடைசிப் பாலகனின் இரத்தம்

THE CHILDREN WILL BREAK THE CANNONS


A poem in Thamizh by Deebachelvan titled
BEERANGIGALAI SIRUVARGAL MURIPPAARGAL
[பீரங்கிகளை சிறுவர்கள் முறிப்பார்கள்]

Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan

Guns and Cannons are collected
for children.
What do the guns intend to do?
They might either turn terribly exhausted and
fall upon the ground.
Or, turning all the more sharpened
they would tear off the faces.

It is you who insists on turning revolution into a
Weapon.
It is you who throws open the Field
that brings forth resistance and rebellion.
When it proves beyond you to contain and do away with
the rebellion and revolution
and you start oppressing the people
Revolution gushes forth in the streaming blood.
From the Land where we remain singing the Hymn of Life
oh, you alien forces-
When will you leave?
Oh, when will you choose to remove the shadow of your
arrogant power
that shrouds our very Life?

When the aged ones feeling all spent out
go past Time - shrunk and huddled
the small boys would grow into full-fledged adults
and break those guns and cannons that you have
brought along.
The whole lot of generations of this Soil
are being annihilated by war.
Oh, when will all these annihilations cease to be?

When destruction is forced upon our children
When once again annihilation-spree commences
This land of decay would tremble and writhe in pain.
Yet, when cannons and guns would be brought
to this Land
the boys would break them all, for sure.

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THE LAND GNAWED AND EATEN BY THE VERMIN


A Poem in Thamizh by Deebachelvan titled
POOCHI ARITHUNNUM NILAM
[பூச்சி அரித்துண்ணும் நிலம்]

Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan

The worms and insects that had gnawed and eaten away the houses
Finished swallowing the dry-sticks along with the green trees
The giant vermin that keeps walking and wandering
on top of the ever multiplying worms and insects
devovours ‘Poovarasam’ trees and dance devilishly.
Lifting up the babies on the razor-edge of sharpened swords
they throw them up so high, playing merrily.

In dense nights they finish eating up the people
buried deep underneath the soil, with their dreams,
and go searching for the traces and rip them apart.
With the hues and shades that scatter off the vermins
the very colour of our Land has changed.

Hauling the dream so cruelly sabotaged
into a mammoth bundle
It goes away, rolling it along.
All the worms and insects go wandering
with hunger unleashed
and chop off Earth’s branches.
And the giant vermin
in full view of one and all
open all too wide its many a mouth
and gobble up the ancestral Land.

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