Sunday, May 10, 2009

Poems in English

As I read and read these books
the pages grew apace
the book seems endless
The moment I stop reading
The book is out

No place of birth
No language
That may be said
To be your mother-tongue
No style of life
That you may say
Is yours
No region
Claims you,
And the check Post
Despoils the charm
Of your native place
In silence
You writhe and shrink
In to your own self
You writhe in self pity
In the tomb of yourself
You bear
The cross that is
But your own self
And in this great renunciation
You wander on
Without any
Place of refuge
Such a sinner
You are.

We view this world
And society
through the microscope
and we feel elated
but when we turn the
microscope and view ourselves
then all our joyousness
comes to a close
the mind is restless
our rage and

excitement cool down
Even then
the shame of it all
is not there

Stop singing
When the voice is good
Before the finger is swollen
Sell the veena
Untie the anklet
Before its bells
Get scattered
Before I get bed-ridden
Place me on the bier.

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