A SMALL EXILE POEM

                                   

THE SPRING NEVER VISITED US..

I scribbled these Kashmiri  lines today :- 

"

Vunendur dera traavith darad gaamas

Dapaan aeiss mooli pyath Zaamit chha saari

Prabhatan vol  apuz  atlaas  zakhman,

Ta  shaaman bar matchier gham koothirev aessi

Atsav  baagas ta poshav be-rukhi  kar

 Harud aessi saet roodh prath mausamas manz ,

Lagaan yeli sag chhu patran ,shraakh moolan,

Pyavaan paanai chhe theadh sanglaat hi kuel.

Bahaaras taam gatchh vaen graav vaatien

"Iya zaanh vaav ring bar gamityen kun" 

( Avtar Mota )

My English rendering would be like this :-

(The sleeplessness has come to reside 

in this city of pain, 

Perhaps, all of us were born

 at some inauspicious time ,

These mornings , camouflage our  wounds 

Throwing a false silken cloth over them,

While  the evenings open   storehouses of  sorrow for us 

As we step into the garden ,

 the  flowers turn indifferent , 

And the desolate  autumn, 

 never moves away from us  .

We know, when only leaves are watered 

And  daggers thrust in the  roots,

Even tall  and robust trees 

also dry up 

and fall to the ground of their own .

Now , we only wish our  complaint reaches the spring ,

"Shall a whiff of   your breeze pass by the exiles ?" )

( Avtar Mota )

CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.
Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.