Edangal ( Spaces) by Sacchidanandan
My moon rises in the hillside
Casting its beams on the Arabian tales.
My sun sets on the Atlantic:
From Lithuania to Liberia.
My stars make the Pacific Ocean shimmer,
Turning each island into gold.
My Thesaurus is filled with words
From the whole world:
Arabia, Iran, China, Portugal,
Over the music of water emanating from Tamil,
The solid profoundness of Sanskrit.
Emerging from the Middle East,
My daily bread comes from Vidharbha
Where farmers kill themselves,
My drinking water from the Ganges
Where orphaned corpses float
My song is of the shrivelling river Nila,
My death is that of the pitch black Yamuna.
I sleep in solitude,
Remembering our Syrian driver Khalid,
( Would he be still alive?
What about his sweetheart, the girl who was
Sometimes a homeless Kurd
Steps into my dreams, and at other times
A Rohingyan refugee.
I cannot understand Gikuyu,
I haven’t even visited Palestine till now.
I burnt all the evidences of my having lived
In this world.
From the ashes, like a Phoenix
Which cannot fly,
A single thought remained on the earth-
It still lays eggs.
One day, from one of those
A white sun might rise in my village.
Remembrances of my existence might be seen
As dark specks on it.
Only words fall into my begging bowl:
Compassion, Love, Sacrifice.
The black hole formed by words.
(All mistakes of translation are mine. It was too beautiful to let go!)