Varnamala : Contemporary Oriya Poetry

 
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ABHAYA KUMAR PADHI
 

THE BORN-BLIND DESCRIBES HIS RAINBOW


Perchance there looms up a rare dark
with muted footfalls of solitude
or an eerie surge from the north-east
and then, for a moment,
the eyes of Born-Blind liven up
and see a rainbow
on the sloping bough of the sky.

And, what a rainbow!
Its first shade soused with blood-colour
of the slayed bee-swarm.
In its second shade :
the consent of the Queen-Bee, a visualized shape
of a new Hive yet to be sculpted.
In the third, the shadow of the white breeze
Sin and slur in the fourth.
The fifth colour : a grotesque void.
The stench of burnt-out kadamba-tree
in the sixth.
The seventh takes its hue from the agony
of the trounced enemy.

Such is that rainbow!
It has an eighth colour, in which
Born-Blind sights a well-studded star of another darkness
and the third bank of a river not yet astream.

Translation :
The poet

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