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Home page > English > Poetry > Where the Words Reside

Where the Words Reside

Original (Malayalam): Rosemary

Tuesday 17 October 2006, by Santhosh Alex



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این صفحه را به دوستانتان بفرستید
;
;

Translation:   Santhosh Alex

On a sunny morning

when the sunlight fell

in between the trees

my brother left this place.

We were playing on the meadows

where the black dragonfly

used to fly.

He wanted to tell me something......

But before the words came out

from his tender lips,

all of a sudden, a tree’s branch

fell on him.

Before knowing that it was death

he traveled to death...

 

Later we put on white clothes on him

adorned his head with a crown of flowers

covered him with rose petals

and cremated him

where the trees guarded the grave,

leaving him alone in the cold solitude of the graveyard.

In a bold voice the priest said

“ Don’t grieve

by this time he must have turned

into a little angel

and is seated on God’s lap.

It’s a custom that

the sinless and the kids

turn into angels after death.....”

Hearing this, our old servant

who is an outcast , whispered in my ear,

it’s not true......

 

 It’s a custom that

the kids who die

become little birds and fireflies

and wander here itself.......

 I did not think

As to what is right and what is wrong !

I was thinking of that word

which he did not utter......

 

What is that my brother

wanted to tell me ?

It’s years since he departed.

The only thoughts that remain are

his muddy slippers,

his shirt with the smell of milk,

the fruit in his pocket

plucked from a Christmas tree....

and his sorrowful thoughts....

Even today,

when the sunlight falls in between the trees

I think of that word

which he did not utter ,

What might have happened ?

Where did the word reside ?

What about the thoughts of the dead

which were not shared and spoken ?

On which branch they would reside ?

At last,

where do they seek shelter ?

 Published in the Journal Chandrabhagha – issue of 9/2004

Home page > English > Poetry > Where the Words Reside


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