Varnamala : Contemporary Oriya Poetry




The golden lines of Devisutra or Geeta 
begin the day's first move.  

And then the hot steam of excited cups of tea,  
ignoring all rules of hygiene.  
While sipping tea, gather the kith and kin.  
There comes the seven-year-old daughter, Pupun,  
holding a Picture-Book : Ramayana.  
The wife begins her day's chores,  
with "Songs-on-Request"  
blasting from her Radio.  

Brightening the cause of the hour of trial,  
with immense eagerness I narrate to Pupun  
the stories of Seeta and Ravana.  
But unmindfully,  
like a red, red ripe apple  
the sun comes  
and stands in front of me.  

While shaving, I get wish-waves,tempting.  
Breaking down all walls  
come in to cling onto my body.  
Like an intoxicated boat  
float towards the indefinite time.  
The bell resounds inside the body.  
On heaps of falsehood  
the scattered sunshine of impatience.  
And, while searching the stairs of freedom,  
with all interests  
arrives :  
the birthtime of another morning...  

The world seems old  
and, under the vast sky,  
one feels himself dispensable,  

Translation :
Sanat Das Patnaik  

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