Arjun Dangle
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
Thank you for this lovely blog, Vankar sir. The selections of poetry are beautiful.
ReplyDeleteExplanation please.
ReplyDelete