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Anubhav Tulasi
Rain
Like the thorns
Something is there
In the rain too.
Leaning against a pillow
It wants to settle itself
And burn the dreams Wth the wicker.
To the murmuring ghat of an unseen river
The rain leads me.
I deck on the candle stand
The blooming drops of rain.
The rain tills me
And in its heart
The paddy seedling I plant.
Sometimes I fly kites
With the rain
We both play
The game of snapping strings.
Translated by Niren Thakuria
A Magician Who First Brought Love
I smelt a flower in your river.
The erosion has begun since.
The fire began to fly the air,
The ocarina in the stream
The lac of heart begun to melt.
That day
On a curved knife
I was scaling
The live fish of life.
That was the beginning of love
I smelt a flower
With the roots
On water
The bare tree
Was floating.
Translated by Niren Thakuria
Breaking The Window Panes
Who whimpers down broken panes
may be the sky somewhere is overcast
or is it a cascading of the past?
My winged eyes discern
shapes beyond the window
it is my heart perhaps
that needles me with broken panes
twigs reach out
in importunate beckoning
putting out the lamp
you are sitting cloistered
in the depth of darkness
the bastion of whimpering
Translated by Pradip Acharya
Of Inundation
After long years of inundation
the river is the story, mainly,
I shed my clothes long ago
had left them somewhere in the past
Today, I’ll step into the water
For, at the bend of the road
Strewn with fallen flowers
storm and flood still rage frenzied.
Translated by Pradip Acharya
The Flood Will Come Again On Saturday
The flood will come back on
Saturday
Under incessant downpour the
heart’s
leaking fragrance
Relief coming to the camp on
Sunday
Misery will setup its hearth
on my chest
Monday to flute and folksong
A whole cowshed full of yeaning
will climb the hill
Most Tuesdays you com
To gather fire-wood of famished
fingers
Trusting to plantain-raft
I shall send the oar for
the unfinished work
Thursday the milky rice will rot
Flesh and Blood will topple with
On Friday’s slippery road shall
approach the cremation-ground
To smell the flower
of the whirlpool
of my death.
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