A TRIBUTE TO R.RAMACHANDRAN MASTER
My meeting with Ramachandran master and the days spent with him in Kozhikode are one of the rare moments in my life.It seems that lucidity talks to obscurity in his poems.Little epics in which God,hills,stars darkness,light,shadows,flowers,horizon becomes characters.August 3, is his fifth death anniversary.
These poems are translated from Malayalam as a tribute to him.
SPECKS OF SENSE
I
Everything
bathes in the light.
Only this shred of shadow
sleeps in my lap.
I feel like crying aloud.
Where is my heart?
Is it in this chunk of shadow?
Is it in this bough
that wish to stretch
far off the horizon?
Is it in the evening star
about to wake?
II
I'm treading along
the bylanes
made by me.
That is my success.
All I think is
about the passers by
in the main road.
That is my failure.
IN THE BURIAL GROUND
My birds
went in search of me
came back to myself
not finding me.
In which inclines of dusk
the hues in their wings
have fallen dispelled?
In this winter's burial ground
days fall dead.
Stinking smell of
aged sky's rotten corpse roams.
Hence
No stars'll born.
The heart's sorrow of
the song can't be sung
listens-
Who is crying?
My meeting with Ramachandran master and the days spent with him in Kozhikode are one of the rare moments in my life.It seems that lucidity talks to obscurity in his poems.Little epics in which God,hills,stars darkness,light,shadows,flowers,horizon becomes characters.August 3, is his fifth death anniversary.
These poems are translated from Malayalam as a tribute to him.
SPECKS OF SENSE
I
Everything
bathes in the light.
Only this shred of shadow
sleeps in my lap.
I feel like crying aloud.
Where is my heart?
Is it in this chunk of shadow?
Is it in this bough
that wish to stretch
far off the horizon?
Is it in the evening star
about to wake?
II
I'm treading along
the bylanes
made by me.
That is my success.
All I think is
about the passers by
in the main road.
That is my failure.
IN THE BURIAL GROUND
My birds
went in search of me
came back to myself
not finding me.
In which inclines of dusk
the hues in their wings
have fallen dispelled?
In this winter's burial ground
days fall dead.
Stinking smell of
aged sky's rotten corpse roams.
Hence
No stars'll born.
The heart's sorrow of
the song can't be sung
listens-
Who is crying?
Where the originals
ReplyDeleteVivarthanam allaathe original engine kittum??
ReplyDeleteVivarthanam allaathe original engine kittum??
ReplyDeleteDC books anu publish cheydadhu ' R Ramachandrante kavithakal'... Avarde storil anveshiche nokku :)
ReplyDelete