TRANSLATED FROM KONKANI BY PARESH NARENDRA KAMAT
In the language of those kisses…
When
the trees dreamt themselves
into blossom,
the sea found wings
in its waves.
Unknowingly,
the lips found their own language,
the language of kisses.
In the language of those kisses,
let’s have sweet communions
crimson as blood…
On your branch
I shall transform into a small bird
And perch on your branch
Which shall not have an inkling about me.
I shall not chirp
I shall not be beguiled by the branch
I shall not even build a nest on the branch.
You will not even know
When I shall fly away
Leaving your branch behind…
Together
You and I
Even when together,
Something is missing.
No matter how much water
Fills the well,
The hollowness still echoes.
Behind the Trees
From slumber
the night descended
all alone
And
the night kept searching
for the moon
behind the trees.
I, too,
half-asleep,
walked behind the trees
searching
with the night,
to where you were
hidden in the shadows,
the moon
concealed within your heart.
Ripe Berries
When I mix red with blue
I see the sky’s purple glow
and my thoughts drift to ripe berries
and then, they drift to you
I remember your breasts
and their tips,
ripe as berries.
Also read, The Cure by Ghulam Nabi Shahid, translated from Urdu by Huzaifa Pandit, and published in The Antonym.
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