They who produce only early spring
And dream only the early spring
Haunting the nightmares in autumn
A surety from their answer
The future will be a question mark?
Break the bones of
The roots and the patriarchs
Put them in the grave
We are the living presentence
We are marching in the month of snow

That’s all annoyance suddenly ventures
Not only the scientists, but political veterans too
Can hardly measure some situations …
How far is it from
The beating of a heart to wetting of eyes and
The Response of a body?

It’s easy to fold a tongue
Saying irresponsible
It’s a bit crazy to say that
Some soft funds have arrived
In taking a busy busy life in [...]]]> Into this dawn of this month of snow
That encircled as thick smog
Who has protruded out as jasmines with elongated stalks
Wearing the crinkled wings of metallic birds
Filled the streets with brightness
This is the occasion when
Today turns a routine for tomorrow
How much they reviled
For new answers

They who produce only early spring
And dream only the early spring
Haunting the nightmares in autumn
A surety from their answer
The future will be a question mark?
Break the bones of
The roots and the patriarchs
Put them in the grave
We are the living presentence
We are marching in the month of snow

That’s all annoyance suddenly ventures
Not only the scientists, but political veterans too
Can hardly measure some situations …
How far is it from
The beating of a heart to wetting of eyes and
The Response of a body?

It’s easy to fold a tongue
Saying irresponsible
It’s a bit crazy to say that
Some soft funds have arrived
In taking a busy busy life in an easy way
For the lack of any personal mileage
Who can give any answer?
It’s not so elegant as rallies of candlelight
Let them fester and suffer for a while

***

In the cold of this month of snow
Nakedness shivers vigorously
When human beings remain as organs
From the virtual reality of distress
It navigates into absolute reality
Weekend parties, night outs, tweeting
Postings and likes, teasing tea shirts
Plunging from the concealed emotion
Those are a few fists of waves
Can’t we welcome with our two hands
Whether they retreat or what may happen in future
Don’t descend down the tethered heap
Left on the plateaus of axioms
Let us dance wetting in the warm waves
That decrease to some extent
The area of sand banks of life
In conclusion
Let us welcome the new voices
Tuned by the month of snow

Original: Desa Raju (Telugu)
Translation: Swapnika