by the river shabari

by the river shabari
i wander and i sigh
a thousand faces in the waters
a thousand in the sky

by the river shabari
sad breezes blow
sad birds sing no song
fireflies never glow

by the river shabari
guts curl in fright
cursed wizards cry all day
banshees wail all night

by the river shabari
history makes no sound
it’s just the waters flowing by,
and humans hurled hellbound

by the river shabari
silence cuts through bones
tales of life ever lost
humans turned to stones

by the river shabari
sunset rides the waves
my children there never dream
they sleep in unmarked graves

by the river shabari
i bend my knees and weep
and pray my atheist prayers to
the earth that runs so deep

Ratnakar by Saroj Dutta (Chatushkon Magazine, 1952) - a translation

bloodied feathers fall on calm river 

a sky chewed up through chest-smashing calls of parting 

Hunter – the Nishadh – 

He stands, shameless, stoic, stark in laughter,

Inebriation of non-violence in hand, red eyes,

Bandit Ratnakar awakes

sad questions in eyes, he stays awake, stunned by this sudden pain

two eyes of one swan – hurt to death 

– strewn astray by feet

Rishi, speechless in shame, Vedic mantras make no answer

Golden dreams of fortitude in eyes, 

the Hunter has won

From ashes of forgetting rises –

a past, aflame 

Vessels of blood burn in brutal wrath, 

Rishi burns in the hatred of denial

-- Today, by the rice-bereft hut, does she still stay awake?

His lover, her breasts are made of skin – does she hold a baby-skeleton to her?

In peals of laughter the Dasyu poet 

– he tears those false flags of non-anger 

Day of darkness, fulfilled, 

to end by the dimly caving shores

for the sake of

for the sake of the hills

for the sake of the valleys 

for the sake of all sadness

that weep in lonely alleys

a touch of love, a kiss for life

a book of poems to write

to wrap around and shield us in

when anger comes to smite

for the sake of rivers gushing by

for every bend they take

for every smile and every sigh

for the noose on martyr’s neck

songs to sing, fists to hoist

broken hearts to mend

countless friends sticking on

a handful dreams to defend

for the sake of slogans on parched lips

for the sake of what they mean

for every eye, though squished by pellets,

yet keep on shining keen

voyages of wisdom, voyages of love

those shores of freedom afar 

this road we make, this road we take 

unto the morning star….