The muse too sheds tears.
Not just one’s body, but the
Nation as a whole shivers!

2

The sorrow of many a mother
The slok that no Valmiki could ever write.
The epic that needs to be written now
Is not Ramayanam but a ‘Bomb’ayanam!

3

The fire has swallowed the lips
Even before the lover has ever attempted to kiss
If one wants entwine the loved one in a snake’s hug
In secrecy, the legs lay severed!

4

The sons have come, their city dreams
In the lightless eyes of parents fill moonshine!
The parents now like candles
Before their limbless children, in hospitals!

5

The three billion gods they worship with their offerings
do not create half a drop of blood, to save!
Far better to have four humans
In each village who can give blood, instead!

6

This tender face wherein blood curdled,
The head, like a thorny crown
With nails adorned by the bomb
Who is this young Jesus, which sin has he befriended?

7

Masjid did not say a word looking at the
Flesh of the [...]]]> 1

The muse too sheds tears.
Not just one’s body, but the
Nation as a whole shivers!

2

The sorrow of many a mother
The slok that no Valmiki could ever write.
The epic that needs to be written now
Is not Ramayanam but a ‘Bomb’ayanam!

3

The fire has swallowed the lips
Even before the lover has ever attempted to kiss
If one wants entwine the loved one in a snake’s hug
In secrecy, the legs lay severed!

4

The sons have come, their city dreams
In the lightless eyes of parents fill moonshine!
The parents now like candles
Before their limbless children, in hospitals!

5

The three billion gods they worship with their offerings
do not create half a drop of blood, to save!
Far better to have four humans
In each village who can give blood, instead!

6

This tender face wherein blood curdled,
The head, like a thorny crown
With nails adorned by the bomb
Who is this young Jesus, which sin has he befriended?

7

Masjid did not say a word looking at the
Flesh of the bleeding swans
Jesus has not saved
Sheshayya has not done anything!
The babas immobile, bound by the gods carved in stone
Only a man can save another now!
The bodies drenched in blood
Whatever they were called,
Their mutilated bodies
Now have to be buried or burnt
What else can be a better tribute?

9

Let them kill any number
Till the ones who mastermind the killings
And the ones who kill
Are tired sick of this
We will resolves ourselves to die!

Original poem: Yendluri Sudhakar
Translation: Kallury Syamala