THE ROOM THAT ISN’T

A poem in Thamizh by Deebachelvan titled
ILLAADHA ARAI[இல்லாத அறை]
Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan

Just the tender palm-leaf that had withered
without getting resurrected do I leave behind and go.
In all those bunker-like holes that had caved inside the walls
my dreams are filled to the brim.
Unusually the lizards fall down and creep away in great haste.
If you want let me also leave behind
cups with tea stains still damp;
dish-particles turned taut and dried up.
The cruel dangers that keep driving away the dream
indulge in revelry and celebration, drinking my yet to be dried blood.
The lizards carry the torn poems.
The residual fragment of the soap
are made wet by the water-drops oozing out of the pipe.
I wander in the room
that isn’t.
In the semi-portrait that stays glued to the wall
wherefrom remembrances removed-
ashes pour down.
From cabin created out of threats
the bird that has not come into life
goes off to the cruel field created by bullets; bombs.
To wipe my face that turns damp with bleeding dreams
Oh, there is none!

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