The single-pillared edifice
of dream plates collapsed to ground.
With the love smoke of incense sticks
the sky’s throat suffocated.
Peeved at not straining
even a fraction of tear-fountains,
the curry leaf plant in backyard
immolated itself in fire

The highway folded its golden cestus
and flung itself as an escaped python.
Concealing her Rajasthani
cheesy sprucings, coral parlance as well,
the girl fully opened the gate

At the midnight hour
the dog with severed tail,
only has a Harikatha of travails to listen to.
No gods turn up till daybreak
to grant any boon

On the way
lay the butterflies with broken wings
White baby rabbits hop in agitation
Chained lustrous flies with golden sheen abound

For the construction of another world
ensues a hunt for tools

Monarchs’ pictures can’t be drawn
with depleted slate pencil
Democracy’s frontiers can’t be
demarcated on broken slate
Alas – The poor child is
cooped up in the well.
Wanting to hoist a poem
I opened the window
A loud noise of flowers
emanated at once

The single-pillared edifice
of dream plates collapsed to ground.
With the love smoke of incense sticks
the sky’s throat suffocated.
Peeved at not straining
even a fraction of tear-fountains,
the curry leaf plant in backyard
immolated itself in fire

The highway folded its golden cestus
and flung itself as an escaped python.
Concealing her Rajasthani
cheesy sprucings, coral parlance as well,
the girl fully opened the gate

At the midnight hour
the dog with severed tail,
only has a Harikatha of travails to listen to.
No gods turn up till daybreak
to grant any boon

On the way
lay the butterflies with broken wings
White baby rabbits hop in agitation
Chained lustrous flies with golden sheen abound

For the construction of another world
ensues a hunt for tools

Monarchs’ pictures can’t be drawn
with depleted slate pencil
Democracy’s frontiers can’t be
demarcated on broken slate
Alas – The poor child is
cooped up in the well.
Writhing she is, in distress.

The traitor who stabbed the flute
and stole ragas from it
is garlanded in Satyagraha tent.
Having become a kite,
a severed head
is dangling from a tree branch

A march of wasps on eyelids
An attack of large ants on nose
A sprint race of baby elephants on lips
I stood beside the statue of a leader
at the junction of crossroads.
But there seems no respite to the assault

Banging on the waves of wind
someone is shouting.
A stratagem is burning in the ocean
that is flowing rhythmically – says he

Come
Walk a few steps with me

Origin (Telugu): Dasaraju Ramarao
Translated by: Elanaaga