On the roads laid out according to the plan
breaths thwarted till yesterday, crawled and sped along
And with each swing of these orphaned breaths
my mute existence was moved
and swayed as a pendulum.
The unscrupulous pundits awaken desire
in the stillborn womb of civilization,
flaunted overhead, naked placards
with slogans of purity and holiness
their metaphysical gymnastics trampled and
scattered my life, unbalanced already,
the life of the Dalits crushed
by tyrant stones of grinding inequality.
When it was hung upon a peg by the long leash
they had twisted and strung
Each angry wound faced by my blood turned
to speak with its neighbours
the language of revolution.
Maybe in future to quench the thirst for triumph
each wet bloodline etched upon my heart
will scream and wail
And the evening will collapse in death
which is here burning in flames
Then to patch up the light of dawn
I will need some ruthless stitches
and perhaps to attain unity
the bleeding light in pain may try to befriend
every sun which has set
on this part of the planet.
Translated by Charudatta Bhagwat