I will Belong to It
That one should, at masturbating age,
Sit twisting rope instead
And at the age of eternal gazing
Upon a moonlike face
Wander the town wearing down soles
At playing-with-grandchildren age
Let disease play upon one’s self.
Is this my life?
There, outside the village,
It is my blood that rots
Here in this lean-to I
Am the city edition of that same blood.
To whom can I tell this?
To the soil here?
The soil which has not allowed
The footprint of my existence
To make its mark upon her yet?
To the sun and moon here
Who wrench away the rays that fall upon my home?
To whom…to whom. shall I tell?
In the land of fifty eight crores
This is how I must continue to live,
Who will listen to whose agony
In this density of people?
I want a life
That has the vital sap
I want a soil
That, smeared on the brow,
Will bring tears to the eyes
I want a sun and a moon
Who will with their rays lasso me to them and caress
I don’t want mere crowds, mere land
I want for it a name whose meaning
May engrave itself on my heart,
And gently blow upon my endless pain.
It will belong to me and I belong to it.
Translated by Shanta Gokhale