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Ramakrushna Sahu


Bastard

I am born of the dark
of a wanton pleasure
where the faces of all
the hungry men look alike.

The one in the guise
of a stigmaless light
pushing me from the dark
towards the blue carnival of death
is my mother,
I am her bastard son.

Here
does anyone have
any definite address ?
Tomorrow we will be driven out
of the inn of blood-and-flesh.
Then you and me are the same.
Here
does history have any worth at all ?

Here in this blind colony
the only difference is this :
you are the mirror of
a lake in a frame,
I am a flashline of lightning:
now I am, then nowhere.

Yet called from behind
I turn back only to find
all the males and females
look alike :
blurred and weird,
all of them are my kin,
but I am no one's child.

Nobody can tell truth from falsehood;
all of them slaves of hungry fire.
So nothing hurts me,
not even an unwary father
cohabiting his daughter.

A bastard though,
I am a flawless sculpture
of the unalloyed man.

May you call her a whore
but she is the one
who wets my dry lips
with the brushes of her nipples,
I call her :
Mother !


Translated by Rabindra K Swain


 








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