PRAMOD KUMAR MOHANTY
MEMORY
The bird sings in false notes.
No fish in the river, no star in the sky.
No dawn breaks
No hope, no curse,
Nothing.
No letter,
Not even the barest sign of an address.
Everywhere scattered ink-drops
Like wrong acts of life.
The bird sings in false notes.
No more through eyes
Memory now seeks other avenues.
Where the black pigeon flaps its wings
The deceptive moon betrays the morning,
Where the wide steps of the wind
Disturb the waters of the river.
Which Midas touch
Turns memory into tears ?
Memory is the squarefoot of time
And the capital is a city of tears.
Memory is regular like time
And each clock has a punishing look.
The ticking clock
Love's eternal enemy, the graveyard of memory.
Memory : the squarefoot of time
And the city only a city of tears.
Everywhere
Drops of void absence
Like the empty girls' commonroom in summer vacation.
Alas, the bird sings false notes, false notes.
Translation :
Jayanta K. Biswal
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