Poetry in translation
(Translated by Nuzhat Amin)
In watercolours etched a moment’s fragrance
Stretched over that river’s arm
Do you remember? That subdued
night, the day the mountain
came to bow respectfully, the river by its side . . .
Darkness in its fist, a festival of the dead, yet
then was no squall – even in the crackling sun
The motherland was peaceful, the beasts crabby-blind.
You fell asleep during hunting
And from the graves the bodies of ancestors
Started levitating in the air, suddenly in whim
or plain curiosity
You got lost in the mystery of a different paradise
You remember – the bed of love in flames
and I had learnt to tame the fire
causing some of you to smile . . .
This fire burns in blue water, whereas you
were scorched by lack of faith,
did not get the remaining ashes
The wolves have opened their eyes, all around
the decimated flocks of birds.
And on your visage grew
Alien vegetation, saw – the motherland and you
become alluvial enriched mechanized dolls.