Pankaj Thapa 

Translator

To slumber amongst the awakened
is more difficult
than staying awake amongst the slumbering.

slumbering can be contagious,
one slumber leading to another,
another, ..... and another
till an epidemic of slumber explodes.
During the pandemic of sleep
the despot sings of peace.

The slumbering public is innocent,
like a slumbering child,
smiling in its sleep.
Asleep, it does not know when it bedwets,
asleep, it is photogenic,
asleep, it does not cast stones at the mirror
does not ask for aeroplanes and guns,-
Things, a despot knows better
than a poet.

Like sleep, wakefulness too is contagious,
One rubs his eyes as he awakes,
sighs and coughs...
another coughs, another sits up, talks.
all talk to each other,
the talking growing into a din...
Like a sprouting shoot of thought
One thought sprouts, and another... and another.
becoming a bountiful harvest of thoughts.
Things, a poet knows better
than a despot.

Parting the leaves of the banyan tree
the egg-shaped sun came
and
dropped The Times of India
at my door.

The Times of India gave me a country
floundering to be a nation,
a blood-stained earth
crying out to become a mother.

Later, the day gave me
agitating streets on fire
seeking a clear identity.
As the sun flared up in a flame,
the griddle of the sky
roasted the earth like a roti
ravenously consumed
by a handful of mouth
round a table.