Poem
Varavara Rao
After All You Say
For meThe scene of writing,
Torsioning out word-chains,
From the seams of the earth,
An endless movement.
In writing too
Pressure and stress inflecting sounds,
Repeated in a weave of inter animation.
Force re-gendering
Words
As lines of people,
In-surge in movement.
My self seems
Inscribed –
Forces that lived me and awaiting future
Lives.
The blood on the sweat smelling
Person’s forehead is indelible
I try and mop it
I can neither touch nor soil
The glorious sun-scape stretched into the stellar space.
As I pore over,
The work in my hands
Moves me in to the hands
That is in the work
Unknowingly moving into them
If I spread the work
On my self
Feeling, it is indeed!
Reading in silence
I feel unblinking looks
My tongue plays when the lips move
As the vital chords of myself
Reverberate encompassing gong waves.
I feel
As if the work
Has uttered in me the clues
To this cryptic universe.
Yet I know
This is only empathy
And haven’t lived through the work.
I am only shaking awake
The multitudes to encounter from my bones:
Taming the volcanoes
And tending the spring-currents
From the innards of my earth-self,
Perhaps like the Pavlov dog.
But for me –
Used to reading man as a text
Can the book become a substitute
For the world?
© Translation: 1997, D. Venkat Rao
From: Pretext: A Journal of Rhetorical Theory, Vol. 18: Nos. 1-4
Publisher: Victor Vitanza, Clemson, 1997
From: Pretext: A Journal of Rhetorical Theory, Vol. 18: Nos. 1-4
Publisher: Victor Vitanza, Clemson, 1997
AFTER ALL YOU SAY
© 1990, Varavara Rao
From: Muktakantham
Publisher: Samudram Prachuranalu, Vijayawada
From: Muktakantham
Publisher: Samudram Prachuranalu, Vijayawada
Poems
Poems of Varavara Rao
Close
After All You Say
For meThe scene of writing,
Torsioning out word-chains,
From the seams of the earth,
An endless movement.
In writing too
Pressure and stress inflecting sounds,
Repeated in a weave of inter animation.
Force re-gendering
Words
As lines of people,
In-surge in movement.
My self seems
Inscribed –
Forces that lived me and awaiting future
Lives.
The blood on the sweat smelling
Person’s forehead is indelible
I try and mop it
I can neither touch nor soil
The glorious sun-scape stretched into the stellar space.
As I pore over,
The work in my hands
Moves me in to the hands
That is in the work
Unknowingly moving into them
If I spread the work
On my self
Feeling, it is indeed!
Reading in silence
I feel unblinking looks
My tongue plays when the lips move
As the vital chords of myself
Reverberate encompassing gong waves.
I feel
As if the work
Has uttered in me the clues
To this cryptic universe.
Yet I know
This is only empathy
And haven’t lived through the work.
I am only shaking awake
The multitudes to encounter from my bones:
Taming the volcanoes
And tending the spring-currents
From the innards of my earth-self,
Perhaps like the Pavlov dog.
But for me –
Used to reading man as a text
Can the book become a substitute
For the world?
© 1997, D. Venkat Rao
From: Pretext: A Journal of Rhetorical Theory, Vol. 18: Nos. 1-4
Publisher: 1997, Victor Vitanza, Clemson
From: Pretext: A Journal of Rhetorical Theory, Vol. 18: Nos. 1-4
Publisher: 1997, Victor Vitanza, Clemson
After All You Say
For meThe scene of writing,
Torsioning out word-chains,
From the seams of the earth,
An endless movement.
In writing too
Pressure and stress inflecting sounds,
Repeated in a weave of inter animation.
Force re-gendering
Words
As lines of people,
In-surge in movement.
My self seems
Inscribed –
Forces that lived me and awaiting future
Lives.
The blood on the sweat smelling
Person’s forehead is indelible
I try and mop it
I can neither touch nor soil
The glorious sun-scape stretched into the stellar space.
As I pore over,
The work in my hands
Moves me in to the hands
That is in the work
Unknowingly moving into them
If I spread the work
On my self
Feeling, it is indeed!
Reading in silence
I feel unblinking looks
My tongue plays when the lips move
As the vital chords of myself
Reverberate encompassing gong waves.
I feel
As if the work
Has uttered in me the clues
To this cryptic universe.
Yet I know
This is only empathy
And haven’t lived through the work.
I am only shaking awake
The multitudes to encounter from my bones:
Taming the volcanoes
And tending the spring-currents
From the innards of my earth-self,
Perhaps like the Pavlov dog.
But for me –
Used to reading man as a text
Can the book become a substitute
For the world?
© 1997, D. Venkat Rao
From: Pretext: A Journal of Rhetorical Theory, Vol. 18: Nos. 1-4
Publisher: 1997, Victor Vitanza, Clemson
From: Pretext: A Journal of Rhetorical Theory, Vol. 18: Nos. 1-4
Publisher: 1997, Victor Vitanza, Clemson
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