Wednesday, July 9, 2014

On a desolate night like thisLB.Rangarao


On a desolate night like this

On a desolate night like this
When sleep quarrels with my eyes,
Then sits apart sulking in corners,
In the skull beneath my hair
Thoughts embed sharp claws
In the convolutions of my brain.
In the handful of light
Loaned by the flickering lamp
I gleam unobstructed
Or else I too would be here invisible
Like Ralph Ellison’s invisible man.
Trying to shake off my heritage of want
I’m drawn unconsciously to the gods,
The ones my mother nurtured
In their wall-niches.
And those fraudulent gods stand smiling
Like politicians come to gather votes.
And then my night begins to smoulder
Red-hot like burning coals,
And like a doting father released from prison,
There is sunrise in my eyes.

Translated by Priya Adarkar 

No comments:

Post a Comment