Varnamala : Contemporary Oriya Poetry




The VIP will move along  
and a lotus will bloom  
wherever he will set his foot.  
The obedients will bow down  
and the VIP will start climbing the stairs, his robe  
without creases.  
And the pigmies will watch agape.  
Never have they wished for the moon.  

Once the VIP laughs  
the courtiers will start to echo  
in roaring laughter.  
The janitor will open the door.  
The messenger will read out  
the News-of-the-Kingdom.  
And, then, His Highness, the VIP will scribble  
the destiny of the pigmies.  

The VIP will talk with the wallclock.  
He will stretch his countless hands  
in a sea of emptiness  
and hover over the pigmies' heads  
like a weird scarecrow.  

Embracing his own ghost  
the VIP will climb down the stairs  
and, entering his bed chamber,  
will enquire of his wife  
her months and days.  

The VIP will gaze at his own face  
in the mirror of darkness  
and undress :  
he will stand stark naked.  
No courtier around,  
he will count his own breath.  
Seeing him as a headless trunk,  
his own child will get startled.  
His wife will pat the child, mumbling :  
"Nothing else, man, man".  

Translation :
Rabindra K Swain  

[ Note : VIP : Very Important Person.] 
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