Poems - Stalina

1.

Shall I say a secret?

           ( Translator - Dr.Arathy Ashok)

 The god there and the god here, are in love.

Even yesterday, I saw their fingers entwining,

when they walked;

and their lips meeting

at the moment of farewell.

There was no heavenly bread on their beards,

Or the wetness of holy waters in their matted hair;

but instead,

only red revolutions ,

in the shared wounds,

of flowered blooms,

when they slept together.

Pronounce the sentence!

You are there,

And here too.

2.

If this resembles a Khalil Gibran story, it’s not coincidental.

       (Translator - Rash)

Love and Power met one day.
Though the rendezvous was at a time
When nudity was not yet a thing of shame,
Both had secrets
Hidden by the foliage.

Power always harboured a fear.
So, it was full of doubts.
Its clothes were worn tight 
Around its waist. It had the
The scepters,  slaves and 
Sworn believers.
Yet, never ended its doubts.

Love always had something
Clogging its chest
An indefinable feverish heat.
It loved to be devoid of clothes
And wander aimlessly so.

When they sit  together
On the sandy shore,
Those crushed under the firm posture of Power,
Watch with envy
The ones soaring from the lap of Love.

Sharpened with sleepless eyes,
A question arises form Power.
Love, 
Spectre that demolishes restrictions,
should I tame you and light an oil lamp?
Should I chop you down and make a feast?
Before I decide, I need to know
The complexion of your bosom.

As if waiting for the question
Love, that had no fear of killing or dying,
Rises and drops its clothes.
The eyes of Power are blinded 
It wears glasses and asks –
Where’s your soft skin?
Lips trembling in shyness?
Belly flat as a banyan leaf?
Eye lashes like peacock feathers?
Sandal scent?
The cool moony smile?
The slow strides?
The intoxicated stupor?
The paeans from grand epics?

Leave all that aside..
Where are your famed breasts? 
And,
Your navel whorls smelling red?

Love smiles and runs into the sea to bathe.

In aroused wrath,
The sea is commanded to withdraw.
The wind to bind Love.
The sky to strangle it.

The sea, the wind and the sky
Hug in an even flow without batting an eye lid.

Unable to shatter  even a stone
As the commands crash around,
At the peak of anger
Power plucks out its hairs,
Tears up its clothes
And fearing its own nudity
Exits from there
Wearing the robes discarded by Love.

From that day,
In  daylight hours
Drums beat aloud.
The beautiful body of Power 
That no one has seen before,
The glowing skin,
Blown up ads.

Love must be joyously swimming 
Somewhere in the sea
Even now.