PHILOMEL CANTUS

It's all dark and cloudy up there. But down comes a few drops. Now things are far beyond repair. Up the stream all plastics and stuff. Stagnation, stink and contempt pops. It's all dark and cloudy up there. Trees? I plant one if I cut one, you bluff. Seeing soil nowhere but concrete and tiles, it stops. Now things are far beyond repair. Every puff makes you cough. Look, smoke-spit-pipes far above the hilltops. It's all dark and cloudy up there. Impassivity is ended, now She's got rough. Dare not to hold Her with your ropes. Now things are far beyond repair. It broadens and pain deepens, you say enough. But as you look inside, to mend, in high hopes, It's all dark and cloudy up there. Now things are far beyond repair.

My translation of Vyllopilli Sreedhara Menon's Poem 'Assam Panikkar'  We, who are back from Assam, From the laborious toil away from home. Our thoughts flee faster  Than the bolting train. Sweet delight for our eyes, our land, From which we were long estranged. Fields where storks flutter like bullets, Meadows where nature rings her bells in rhythm, Loose haired, dancing coconut trees, In between, houses exchanging sweet grins, Pathways decorating the landscape, When cities dream of villages. Hurry Old friends, come and Dance around us. Away, even a lonesome coconut tree could summon Memories of our motherland. Their white garbs instilled in us  Memories of Malabar, our home. We know, we know, those wight fleas Who make this land a hell. Let the vengeful Time-ahead Take revenge upon these ingrates. We have returned, to write in this ancient soil, The story of the rest of our lives. To dampen the fire of hunger we l...