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Sunita Raina Pandit


Sunita Raina Pandit



Photo by Lucan Husac. http://freeartisticphotos.com




Translated from Kashmiri by Arvind Gigloo

(1)

Catch the fleeting shadow
and
hold
shy love in hands.
Give to the night
a game
and
hide in the dazzle.

I
long for beauty
through my eyes.
May my look
shrink
and
fade
into a haze!
Let my tongue
dangle silent
after the song.
I
want the buds
to sprout
to bloom
and
to emit
fragrance.

(2)

Evening
is a captive
in
home.
They blame the watchman.

The new-born word of today
is
the old word of yesterday.

That page is this page again.

The tainted justice is the law.
Save me!
This is the missive of time.

The line connecting
them
is
profane.
The animal-man
is the cause.
The hermit said:
'Rest in the woods.'

(3)

Who will complain?
Who will shoulder the dead?

Tongues lick dry dust.
The stuff can lead to sublimity.

What to carve in this din?
Living is safe for death.

Put out the inner hidden fire.
Live lest there is a bone-henge for the last flames.

Have the tears dried?
There is no water to drink.

Clasp the shadow of home.
There is nothing for them to torch.

(4)

The mirror is in front of your face.
Where to now?
How many clothes
will
you change?
How does a figure
look
in the shadow?
Nothingness will merge
into
nothingness.

Don't lose the way.
Don't think: 'Why?'

Destroy hunger
for wind.
Cure will be
as fast as carelessness.

Close lips
to write grief.

(5)

Feel living?
Write ether.

Veins don't feel the pain.
Can't buy feeling.

We raced like mad.
The world of the dead is.

A treasure?!
Valmiki is still.
We got exile without verdict.
Sita shivers.

The brave are gone.
Can't emerge out of fire.
Rama doesn't renounce.

This pen
writes agony.

(6)

Let us talk
the high
the faith
the trust.

Time fled
at our meet.

We will
think free
and
play a love-crescendo
this evening.
We will
bury blackness
till morning.

Talk of home
when
the courtyard was
ours.
All this is today.
Talk of the living past and
the city.

(7)

Reach me
my childhood
my care freeness
my carelessness
my mother's shout
my father's mood
my moon
my doll
my swing
my uneven maidan
my ignorant you.

I don't crave
highs and lows.
I don't desire
candy and pepper.

Reach me
my memory
my past.

(8)

I remember
the hope of
the birth
because
forgetfulness is strong.

The mulberry tree
is
aflame
doesn't tolerate memory.

Thought conceals.
The eye betrays.
Strength is
dew.

Eyes lose.
Living is sweat.
The feel of death
is
the termite.
The search for existence is on.
Heart
is
a pendulum.
Consciousness is cobbled.
Thought splays.

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Simon Perchik
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