A Poem by DEEBACHELVAN ( Translation of the Tamil poem titled
SAAMBALAAKKAPPATTA NILATHIN NADUVILIRUKKIRA SIDHAIKKAPPATTA NAGARAM
Translated into English by latha ramakrishnan
-----------------------------------------------
01
The cows wandering,
grazing the landmines buried deep
and the soil too,
with the notion that the
shells are hidden in the cow-dung,
turn away from the City.
People’s Land
has been burnt and
turned to ashes.
In the all-annihilated Land
and so leveled ground
the ghosts have a hey day.
With the Land burnt and
the ashes sprouting
the trees with their heads chopped off
stand frighteningly erect on the ground.
In the space filled with
headless palmyra trees
the ‘panankuthigal’ with
roots withered
remain standing
bearing the vigilant check-posts.
In the ‘Vadis’ where salt is made
the blood and sorrow
of the people who ceased to be
too abound.
02
The hollow pits everywhere
blocking all the ways to return-
they are filled with
miseries to the brim.
In the floor of the
building turned to rubbles,
burying the tombs
and butchering the statues of Memorials
the cows have delivered calves.
Memories
mutilated and erased
are piled up.
With the faces left
being burnt
Sun’s countenance is scorched,
turning black.
In the ashes of tin, born of
the buses and bi-cycles burnt
Buddha remains seated.
Under many a ‘Arasa maram’
that have eyes
wide-opened and wandering,
vessels are piled up.
The Town is
changed beyond recognition.
03
In the road that has lost
all the traces of its identity
the pit turning into mound
and the mound – a
hollow-pit,
the Town has turned into a
stone-plateau.
With the cycles and chairs
set aside in heaps,
ashes spread everywhere.
Beneath the burnt up Sky,
just above the City
Ashes keep sprouting,
scattering non-stop.
From the thoroughly destroyed floors
the windows that would
come off and fall any moment
keep hanging suspended.
With thorny wires
spread over the electric-posts
the long road melts and seeps.
The foremost electric-post of the City
lies there pitiably.
Someone has left a
seat
half-broken,
that must have wandered desperately.
for its place
in the burnt field
With paddy grains yet to be
harvested
Slain and set afire,
except the trees where
Lord Buddha keeps awake,
Shade Nowhere.
The shrines with black veils
blocking the entrance
are painted in the hue of the
Army.
In the Town where the God
of the masses has been
chased away
The bells, torn apart,
have been brought down.
Amidst the ravaged portions
of the very few houses
that still remain
The Vehemence of Destruction
hovers dangerously.
The houses that have lost their
ceilings_
the tankers have pierced thoroughly.
Underneath the boats that
have been left there
In the fields,
fish keep wandering.
In the City where
everything is destroyed
and brought down
the Sinhalese alphabets
are writing the
Slogans of Defeat.
The Schools are covered with
Police-caps.
The long road is shrouded
in Military uniform.
04
In the city
with all traces wiped off
and surrounded by
sand-mounds,
piled up _
nothing is seen.
In the heaps of ashes
the lanes and by-lanes lie
closed
in fear untold;
with no identity of their own
to be disclosed.
Ashes upon the City,
Sand-mounds upon ashes,
Check-posts atop the sand-mounds _
The whole City is being devovoured
by the ‘paval’ moving ahead.
The motor-cycles of the Army - men
go round and round
at all times.
The city has lost all its
hall-marks and identities.
The Ashes dissolving have
filled up the pond.
The words drowned inside
give out a nauseating stench.
With moss spreading on the dream
Entwining itself around the roots
of the lotuses burnt
The great grand Land remain
still; lifeless.
The City has been murdered
in cold-blood.
The Pond is filled to the brim
with the Blood of Defeat.
05
in the direction where
the fire born of the forests
turned upside down
and cast off,
in the long wide root
thoroughly uprooted
and thrown aside
with face terribly
dried –up and withered,
the Hope of the People
has turned to nought.
The well upon which the house
had fallen and
closed down
the courtyard has gulped.
In the ‘Kaani’ where
the open courtyard has plunged
the roots of the ripe trees
of much use
are heaped.
The Space deprived of people
and the Land devoid of its fragrance,
The City sans its hues
and shades
bathe in ashes
and wander in a bewildered state.
The roads which the
corpses watch going past
without setting foot on,
the ghosts and devils
trample everything
under their feet
and heap fresh sand on them,
to the brim,
wiping out the traces of
Everything
and write new words
on them.
In the Space
where Life has turned to ashes,
the ancestral life of Culture and Heritage
with its
Land set afire
and City turned to rubbles,
is being excavated
in order to be
thoroughly wiped off.
With the night spreading far and wide,
swelling
as the shores of the
long main road
along which none returns,
the cow begins to
wander.
The toys that have lost their children
lie in the fields
in anguish unbearable.
------------------------------------
02.08.2009 Wanni, Kilinochchi, A-9 Road
grazing the landmines buried deep
and the soil too,
with the notion that the
shells are hidden in the cow-dung,
turn away from the City.
People’s Land
has been burnt and
turned to ashes.
In the all-annihilated Land
and so leveled ground
the ghosts have a hey day.
With the Land burnt and
the ashes sprouting
the trees with their heads chopped off
stand frighteningly erect on the ground.
In the space filled with
headless palmyra trees
the ‘panankuthigal’ with
roots withered
remain standing
bearing the vigilant check-posts.
In the ‘Vadis’ where salt is made
the blood and sorrow
of the people who ceased to be
too abound.
02
The hollow pits everywhere
blocking all the ways to return-
they are filled with
miseries to the brim.
In the floor of the
building turned to rubbles,
burying the tombs
and butchering the statues of Memorials
the cows have delivered calves.
Memories
mutilated and erased
are piled up.
With the faces left
being burnt
Sun’s countenance is scorched,
turning black.
In the ashes of tin, born of
the buses and bi-cycles burnt
Buddha remains seated.
Under many a ‘Arasa maram’
that have eyes
wide-opened and wandering,
vessels are piled up.
The Town is
changed beyond recognition.
03
In the road that has lost
all the traces of its identity
the pit turning into mound
and the mound – a
hollow-pit,
the Town has turned into a
stone-plateau.
With the cycles and chairs
set aside in heaps,
ashes spread everywhere.
Beneath the burnt up Sky,
just above the City
Ashes keep sprouting,
scattering non-stop.
From the thoroughly destroyed floors
the windows that would
come off and fall any moment
keep hanging suspended.
With thorny wires
spread over the electric-posts
the long road melts and seeps.
The foremost electric-post of the City
lies there pitiably.
Someone has left a
seat
half-broken,
that must have wandered desperately.
for its place
in the burnt field
With paddy grains yet to be
harvested
Slain and set afire,
except the trees where
Lord Buddha keeps awake,
Shade Nowhere.
The shrines with black veils
blocking the entrance
are painted in the hue of the
Army.
In the Town where the God
of the masses has been
chased away
The bells, torn apart,
have been brought down.
Amidst the ravaged portions
of the very few houses
that still remain
The Vehemence of Destruction
hovers dangerously.
The houses that have lost their
ceilings_
the tankers have pierced thoroughly.
Underneath the boats that
have been left there
In the fields,
fish keep wandering.
In the City where
everything is destroyed
and brought down
the Sinhalese alphabets
are writing the
Slogans of Defeat.
The Schools are covered with
Police-caps.
The long road is shrouded
in Military uniform.
04
In the city
with all traces wiped off
and surrounded by
sand-mounds,
piled up _
nothing is seen.
In the heaps of ashes
the lanes and by-lanes lie
closed
in fear untold;
with no identity of their own
to be disclosed.
Ashes upon the City,
Sand-mounds upon ashes,
Check-posts atop the sand-mounds _
The whole City is being devovoured
by the ‘paval’ moving ahead.
The motor-cycles of the Army - men
go round and round
at all times.
The city has lost all its
hall-marks and identities.
The Ashes dissolving have
filled up the pond.
The words drowned inside
give out a nauseating stench.
With moss spreading on the dream
Entwining itself around the roots
of the lotuses burnt
The great grand Land remain
still; lifeless.
The City has been murdered
in cold-blood.
The Pond is filled to the brim
with the Blood of Defeat.
05
in the direction where
the fire born of the forests
turned upside down
and cast off,
in the long wide root
thoroughly uprooted
and thrown aside
with face terribly
dried –up and withered,
the Hope of the People
has turned to nought.
The well upon which the house
had fallen and
closed down
the courtyard has gulped.
In the ‘Kaani’ where
the open courtyard has plunged
the roots of the ripe trees
of much use
are heaped.
The Space deprived of people
and the Land devoid of its fragrance,
The City sans its hues
and shades
bathe in ashes
and wander in a bewildered state.
The roads which the
corpses watch going past
without setting foot on,
the ghosts and devils
trample everything
under their feet
and heap fresh sand on them,
to the brim,
wiping out the traces of
Everything
and write new words
on them.
In the Space
where Life has turned to ashes,
the ancestral life of Culture and Heritage
with its
Land set afire
and City turned to rubbles,
is being excavated
in order to be
thoroughly wiped off.
With the night spreading far and wide,
swelling
as the shores of the
long main road
along which none returns,
the cow begins to
wander.
The toys that have lost their children
lie in the fields
in anguish unbearable.
------------------------------------
02.08.2009 Wanni, Kilinochchi, A-9 Road
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