Poem
Salma
LAKE
Its face dark from pining,The lake lies placid and still
A few days ago,
Without a moment’s pause,
You had flung
Your empty chalices; and
The lake took them in
Without protest
Another day,
You rinsed your ashtray,
Draining the ash in its waters
Even yesterday,
Scorning our love
Gone sour, you had spat
Furiously on the water
At all odd hours — heedless
Of the time of day —
You had dumped your waste
And cleansed yourself
Today, recalling
None of this, you prepare
To slake your endless thirst
This is no river to carry away
Your effluents in its flow,
But a lake — placid and still
Water, gathered
In a stagnant pool,
Hoards all, losing nothing
© Translation: 2006, N Kalyan Raman
LAKE
© 2003, Salma
From: Pachchai Devathai
Publisher: Kalachuvadu Pathippagam, Nagercoil
From: Pachchai Devathai
Publisher: Kalachuvadu Pathippagam, Nagercoil
Poems
Poems of Salma
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LAKE
Its face dark from pining,The lake lies placid and still
A few days ago,
Without a moment’s pause,
You had flung
Your empty chalices; and
The lake took them in
Without protest
Another day,
You rinsed your ashtray,
Draining the ash in its waters
Even yesterday,
Scorning our love
Gone sour, you had spat
Furiously on the water
At all odd hours — heedless
Of the time of day —
You had dumped your waste
And cleansed yourself
Today, recalling
None of this, you prepare
To slake your endless thirst
This is no river to carry away
Your effluents in its flow,
But a lake — placid and still
Water, gathered
In a stagnant pool,
Hoards all, losing nothing
© 2006, N Kalyan Raman
From: Pachchai Devathai
From: Pachchai Devathai
LAKE
Its face dark from pining,The lake lies placid and still
A few days ago,
Without a moment’s pause,
You had flung
Your empty chalices; and
The lake took them in
Without protest
Another day,
You rinsed your ashtray,
Draining the ash in its waters
Even yesterday,
Scorning our love
Gone sour, you had spat
Furiously on the water
At all odd hours — heedless
Of the time of day —
You had dumped your waste
And cleansed yourself
Today, recalling
None of this, you prepare
To slake your endless thirst
This is no river to carry away
Your effluents in its flow,
But a lake — placid and still
Water, gathered
In a stagnant pool,
Hoards all, losing nothing
© 2006, N Kalyan Raman
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