o Deebachelvan ----------------------------------------
(Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan)
Inside the thickly grown weeds and bushes
the danger of power is lurking.
The mothers who caution their children not to go far
and play,
try to enclose the fence and lock the doors of their tents
The goods abandoned are strewn everywhere,
smashed beyond repair.
When at last reaching, lean, weak and broken
the first thing we want to do is to fall flat on the ground
and weep uncontrollably.
All over the Land nothing but Power,
Control and Capturing are being planted.
Our city which was once a beautiful land
is being re-molded now by plundering brains.
The children attempt to probe the dangers lying hidden
inside the bushes and weeds.
This looks like some alien land, not my own city.
The people who have landed here seem not to be mine.
Time had played hide-and-seek with us
and finally left us in the lurch.
In the barren land,
losing all our belongings, looted for ever,
our life which slowly rehabilitates itself
is languishing in the tins of detention camps.
In the camps
with bundles kept ever-ready
more and more people keep arriving.
Records, photographs buses – so in all,
running from pillar-to-post, spent out to the core_
and such other strains and constraints
await them with Sorrow overpowering.
After intense tortures
they cover them with tin-sheets.
The cows go past the place where the men
are plucking out the landmines.
Right from the spare parts of smashed cycles
we go searching for everything.
We crave all too acutely for a decent living.
From utensils left behind,
photographs and a lot more
we keep searching, over and over.
They bring things that don’t synchronize with this Land.
All over the Great Land so cruelly mutilated
plants sprout out of debris.
In the terrible environment where total annihilation
remain frozen
the children begin to smile.
Inside the thickly grown weeds and bushes
the danger of power is lurking.
The mothers who caution their children not to go far
and play,
try to enclose the fence and lock the doors of their tents
The goods abandoned are strewn everywhere,
smashed beyond repair.
When at last reaching, lean, weak and broken
the first thing we want to do is to fall flat on the ground
and weep uncontrollably.
All over the Land nothing but Power,
Control and Capturing are being planted.
Our city which was once a beautiful land
is being re-molded now by plundering brains.
The children attempt to probe the dangers lying hidden
inside the bushes and weeds.
This looks like some alien land, not my own city.
The people who have landed here seem not to be mine.
Time had played hide-and-seek with us
and finally left us in the lurch.
In the barren land,
losing all our belongings, looted for ever,
our life which slowly rehabilitates itself
is languishing in the tins of detention camps.
In the camps
with bundles kept ever-ready
more and more people keep arriving.
Records, photographs buses – so in all,
running from pillar-to-post, spent out to the core_
and such other strains and constraints
await them with Sorrow overpowering.
After intense tortures
they cover them with tin-sheets.
The cows go past the place where the men
are plucking out the landmines.
Right from the spare parts of smashed cycles
we go searching for everything.
We crave all too acutely for a decent living.
From utensils left behind,
photographs and a lot more
we keep searching, over and over.
They bring things that don’t synchronize with this Land.
All over the Great Land so cruelly mutilated
plants sprout out of debris.
In the terrible environment where total annihilation
remain frozen
the children begin to smile.
_________________
13.10.2010
Courtesy: TheeraNadhi, April, 2010
13.10.2010
Courtesy: TheeraNadhi, April, 2010
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