o Deebachelvan ----------------------------------------
(Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan)
The skeletons pushing the lid of toilet-pit and surfacing
were seen first by children.
Whose skeletons are these that have lost their lives and are wandering still?
Even in the wooden-planks with which the corpses were tied and so buried there lie incomprehensible notes.
In the dry palmyra leaves the words with sound torn apart are stuck
Mothers who search for the life in the hidden corners of those polythene bags which had been pressed and dumped inside those toilet-pits,
have gathered
in those cyanide tubes they have filled their last words and left
amidst those knots that were in those black threads tying the number-plates round the arm
the time of sorrow stays deep-rooted.
In two skeletons that wear just the pants of their uniform
The map of the Mother Land so mercilessly destroyed
Is sketched in lines.
In the bucket used to fetch water from the well
A mother has secured the eyes of her son
Why were the corpses hidden in the toilet-pit?
Pieces and particles of flesh yet to rot and wither
Peel off and scatter as the remains of a great grand dream.
In a skeleton that wears just the pants
A woman fervently seeks her husband’s ‘never to die’ smile.
In the skeleton that is clothed in a sari
The scratches too many and too deep
Are counted by one and all
in the skeleton that is stark naked
the children find their fathers and mothers.
The wounds and swellings that remain engraved on the polythenes
As identification marks
The mothers, the sight proving unbearable, feeling terrible
long to apply balm and provide cure
who are they who feel unduly elated dumping corpses into the toilets?
in the well which has been closed by the invaders
I see the smell of the tortured life
Emanating
In the well into which they climbed down and washed their hands
There are blood stains floating in the water- so says my mother.
And the heads of skeletons with deep torturous lines all over
Pressed together and closed all too taut amidst the rubbles of
Fortress-wall – even these the children saw first.
Why do skeletons keep surfacing?
in the city turning into skeleton
Please come with your palms covering the eyes of children
These are the skeletons of whom that we keep searching for?
___________________________
04.06.2010
Image: Gajani
(Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan)
The skeletons pushing the lid of toilet-pit and surfacing
were seen first by children.
Whose skeletons are these that have lost their lives and are wandering still?
Even in the wooden-planks with which the corpses were tied and so buried there lie incomprehensible notes.
In the dry palmyra leaves the words with sound torn apart are stuck
Mothers who search for the life in the hidden corners of those polythene bags which had been pressed and dumped inside those toilet-pits,
have gathered
in those cyanide tubes they have filled their last words and left
amidst those knots that were in those black threads tying the number-plates round the arm
the time of sorrow stays deep-rooted.
In two skeletons that wear just the pants of their uniform
The map of the Mother Land so mercilessly destroyed
Is sketched in lines.
In the bucket used to fetch water from the well
A mother has secured the eyes of her son
Why were the corpses hidden in the toilet-pit?
Pieces and particles of flesh yet to rot and wither
Peel off and scatter as the remains of a great grand dream.
In a skeleton that wears just the pants
A woman fervently seeks her husband’s ‘never to die’ smile.
In the skeleton that is clothed in a sari
The scratches too many and too deep
Are counted by one and all
in the skeleton that is stark naked
the children find their fathers and mothers.
The wounds and swellings that remain engraved on the polythenes
As identification marks
The mothers, the sight proving unbearable, feeling terrible
long to apply balm and provide cure
who are they who feel unduly elated dumping corpses into the toilets?
in the well which has been closed by the invaders
I see the smell of the tortured life
Emanating
In the well into which they climbed down and washed their hands
There are blood stains floating in the water- so says my mother.
And the heads of skeletons with deep torturous lines all over
Pressed together and closed all too taut amidst the rubbles of
Fortress-wall – even these the children saw first.
Why do skeletons keep surfacing?
in the city turning into skeleton
Please come with your palms covering the eyes of children
These are the skeletons of whom that we keep searching for?
___________________________
04.06.2010
Image: Gajani
1 comment:
I hope this blog with the English translation of your poems is widely read by the diaspora youth who have no knowledge of tamil. All poems are heart wrenching.There is power to a writing when it is written with honesty. And you have it in spades.Hope you stay the same . Good luck.
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